My Fair Lady
by snaps48
Summary: In One for the Money, Ranger told Stephanie, 'This here's gonna be like Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle does Trenton.' What if it really was?
1. Chapter 1

**My Fair Lady**

aly

This story changes some things in _One for the Money_, but most of it takes place right after it.

**One**

When I told her that it was gonna be like Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle do Trenton, I had no idea just how prophetic that statement would prove.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"This here is gonna be like Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle does Trenton."

"Great, so are you gonna teach me or what?" she'd asked.

"Sure, babe," I'd said, thinking she would run screaming in the opposite direction the first time she broke a nail trying to bring a skip in.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was three a.m. the next time she called.

"Ranger," she started. "You said you would teach me. So teach me."

"Sure, babe," I told her.

"That's what you said last time," she huffed.

"Are you serious about this?" I asked her suddenly. This whole time I'd been thinking that she would quit after seeing what bounty hunting was like, but more than a week had passed and she was still trying.

"Yeah. What did you think? That I was just doing this for the hell of it?" Actually, yeah. I had.

"Fine," I told her. "Prove it. Catch Morelli, and I'll teach you everything I know."

There was a bit of silence, and I wondered if she was rethinking it. I wondered if she thought she could con me into doing the work for Morelli and let her have the money. Then she answered.

"Fine, but I you need to do one thing first."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yeah. See, I'm having this little problem with a pair of handcuffs…"

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

I was driving to a stakeout when I heard the call over the scanner. Stephanie was bringing Morelli in; she'd be there in forty-five minutes. So she'd done it. I was proud of her, and a little worried about trying to teach her. I hadn't thought I would have to. When she got to the station, there was even more noise over the scanner. She'd brought him in in the back of a freezer truck, along with a few dead bodies and enough evidence to clear the cop. There was also something about Morelli flying out of the truck to tackle Steph, but she was alright at the end of it. I settled into the stakeout, thinking about my plan to bring her up to speed.

Tank was in the car with me, so I discussed it with him.

"Man," he said. "You'll never make her into anything. Girl's never gonna be able to keep up with the game. She couldn't even get Morelli right."

"But she got him. No training, no experience, no nothing, and she brought in a cop on the run from a murder charge. And she brought the evidence to clear him with her, too."

"So she got lucky," Tank grunted. "She won't be able to do it."

"Wanna bet?" I asked. He smiled.

"Now you're talking."

"Give me six months with her, and she'll be as good as any Ranger out of basic." Again, Tank smiled, like he was gonna get some easy money.

"How much," he asked. "Twenty?"

"Fifty," I replied. "Fifty G's." When we play, we play.

"Perfect," he said rubbing his hands together. "This here's gonna be like taking candy from a baby."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bobby and Lester had taken over for us and I'd just dropped Tank off. I was planning to head home and get some sleep, and to think more about how I was gonna teach Steph. Then I heard the call come over the scanner. Shots fired, corner of St. James and Dunworth. That was where Stephanie lived. I tore out of the parking garage and headed towards Stephanie's. I was jumping out of my car just as I heard the first siren. By the time they got to the parking lot I was already up the stairs and through her door, gun out and ready.

I saw her, huddled over the phone, and a dead man on the other side of the room. Doing a quick check of the apartment, I found Ramirez climbing in the window. Wasn't this interesting. I wanted to get back to Stephanie, so I just stunned him and cuffed him to the fire escape. After all, I knew the police were only a few seconds behind me.

"Steph," I called lightly so as not to startle her. "Stephanie? Babe?" She just sat there, face blank, holding the phone. I went over to her, taking the phone out of her hand and picking her up. Then I took us out into the hall to wait for the cops to get there. Thirty seconds later they were in the hall with us and I directed them to the body in the apartment. Then I noticed the wetness on her thigh.

"Steph, were you shot?" I demanded.

"Shot?" she asked, obviously confused. "My leg hurts."

I flew down the steps to the ambulance. A trip to the hospital and seventeen stitches later, she had pulled out of her shock enough to talk to the police. I'd also gathered enough from the other cops that she was due the Robin Hood Sharpshooter's award. She'd shot Alpha five times in the heart, all within an inch of each other. Through her pocketbook. The doctors insisted that she be given her painkillers and antibiotics then, telling the police they could talk to her more when she woke up. After they'd left, I asked the doctors if I could take her home. Fine, they'd said, so long as I'd watch her through the night. I agreed and took her back to my apartment.  One of them, at least.

I changed her out of the hospital gown into one of my shirts, as it was all I had handy, then lay her in my bed. It was one of the smallest of the apartments I had around town, with only one bedroom, but it was the most secure. The bedroom was small but there had been enough space in there for a nice reading chair. That was where I was planning on spending the night. Then I went to make a pot of coffee and grab a book before going back in to sit with her.

A few hours later I was in a half-doze, waiting for my watch alarm to go off to check on Steph again, when she started screaming. Sweeping the room with my eyes and my gun, I came to the belated conclusion that it was a nightmare. Stephanie had stopped screaming, and had rolled over to her side, sobbing into her pillow. I got up and went to her, picking her up and cradling her to my chest. For the next half hour she was crying into my neck before finally relaxing back into sleep, snuggling into me. That was, of course, when Tank walked in.

Settling her back into bed, I went out to the kitchen, shutting the door so as not to disturb Stephanie's sleep. Then I sat down and waited for Tank to start.

"You still wanna go through with the bet?" he asked with a cocky grin on his face. "Last chance to get out of it. Though I can see why you'd wanna spend six months in… close quarters… with her."

I didn't smile.

"She got shot," I told him but his smile didn't go away.

"She chickening out?" he asked.

"She also killed a man. Five to the heart, within an inch." That wiped the smile off his face immediately.

"First kill," I told him.

"Shit."

"Yeah," I paused, considering. "If she still wants this, we start in three weeks."


	2. Chapter 2

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Two**

"Are you still serious?" I asked her a week later. She still hadn't left my apartment, but that was alright with me. I wasn't in any hurry to let her out of my sight just yet. The fact that she'd been shot and had to defend herself by killing a man, all before she knew anything about this kind of life, made me nervous.

"About this bounty hunting thing?" she asked. I nodded. "Yeah."

"Six months," I told her. "In six months, I can make you good. Really good. But you have to agree to follow the rules and do what I say."

"For six months?" I nodded. "What am I gonna do for, you know, food, rent?"

"You'll close out the lease on your apartment. We'll go to a place I have. You won't have to worry about anything except training."

"Are you serious?" she asked. "You want me to just move somewhere with you for six months?" Well, yeah. I just nodded. She smiled. Shrugged.

"Sure."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

A week later and she was still living with me. She'd asked if she should go back to her apartment, but I told her not to. If we were going to be living together for the next six months under conditions not nearly so pleasant, then I thought we should make sure we could live together when I wasn't pushing her so far or so fast.

She had been rather adamant, though, about needing various things from her apartment. I could understand her wanting her clothes. What confused me was why she hadn't asked for them earlier. Of course, it may have been the pain killers, and then dealing with the shock and trauma of having killed someone. I was proud of her, though, and the way she was dealing with it all. So I brought her back to her apartment and let her pack what she thought she needed.

While Steph was putting things together in her room there was a knock on the door. I went to answer it, gun at my side. Opening the door I saw it was Morelli. With pizza.

"Morelli." He just looked at me and blinked.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "You can't just break into her apartment like this. And how did you know I'd be here."

"Hey Ranger," Stephanie called from the bedroom. "What do you want me to do with your clothes? Do you want me to bring them back with us or do I have time for a load of laundry?"

"What made you think I was here for you," I said to Morelli before answering Steph. "Bring them back with us."

"Who were you talking to?" she asked as she came into the living room. Then she'd spotted him "Oh. Hey, Joe. What's up?"

I could see the wheels turning in Morelli's head as he watched her walk in with a suitcase dragging behind her.

"Ooh, pizza. Come in. I've got beer," she said moving to the kitchen. "We have time, right Ranger?" She'd paused, turned to me and smiled. It was good that we were already working out the partner thing; partners consult each other before they make decisions. And we'd be partners for six months, just the two of us, living in close quarters with constant contact. Pleased that she'd asked, and wanting to please her, I agreed. I told myself it was because partners try to keep each other happy, too.

"What's going on Steph?" he asked. "Where are you going? What's Ranger doing here? And _why_ are you doing his laundry?" She looked at him like he was crazy, stopping what she was doing and cocking her head to one side.

"What are you, my mother?"

"Stephanie," Morelli started.

"He's here 'cause he's here," she told him, her tone implying that it was obvious, and that he should very carefully watch his step. "And what business is it of yours anyway? We don't see each other for, what, ten years? Then you're my FTA and I bring you in, and now you're pestering me about doing laundry? Should I expect this from all my skips?"

"Stephanie, this is important. Are you going somewhere with Ranger?" Morelli asked. I didn't like where this was headed, but I'd let it play out. It looked like the two of them had forgotten that I was even in the room. History. There was definite history between the two of them. History I didn't know about.

"Yeah, Joe. In fact, we're having a wildly passionate and sordid affair and even now he's whisking me away to Vegas to marry me." The dryness with which she'd said that made me want to smile, but I managed to keep it to myself. Barely.

"Don't joke," Morelli said sharply.  "This is serious. Ranger's dangerous. He's a wild card, and we've been trying to bust him for years but we can't pin anything on him. He runs guns, has no ethics, and I know he doesn't follow the letter of the law. Only superior luck and calling in a few favors have kept him out of jail this long." Was that so? They were still trying to bust me? I'd have to do something about that when we got back. But I was interested in how Stephanie would respond. She didn't disappoint.

"Funny, isn't it, that just a few weeks ago, the cops were trying to pin something on you?" Morelli paused for a minute, but didn't let her point alter his course.

"He's a killer, Stephanie," he ranted. "He's killed people. What are you thinking going anywhere with him!"

"You killed someone, too, Morelli. And, well, so did I," Stephanie stated, quietly and sadly. "I think you should go." I was thinking the same thing. I opened the door, and Morelli looked from Stephanie, to me, and back again.

"Shit," he said, holding his hand over his face. "Stephanie…"

"No. Just leave please." I focused on Stephanie and could see the tears she was trying to hold back glistening in her eyes.

"Dammit Steph," Morelli started.

"She said leave, Morelli," I told him.

"Shit," he said looking at me. I was still holding the door. "Fine. Fine." And he stormed out. I locked it after him and went to Steph. She was trying to hold it together; I could see her trying to hold it together. And so I held her, helping her get her balance back.

"Well," she said in a voice not yet quite steady. "At least we still have the pizza. Pino's is the best Cure-All ever."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Another two weeks had passed, a week more than I'd anticipated, but we were on the road to the training facility I own on the coast of South Carolina. Barring clothing and a few other items Steph had insisted were essential, we'd put the rest of her things in storage. Then we'd gone to pick up my things and the Hummer and we'd hit the road.

"So, where are we?" she finally asked. We'd been on the road for a little over four hours.

"Half hour outside of Richmond," I told her. Stephanie took a minute to digest that.

"Where are we going?" I'd been wondering when she'd ask that.

"South Carolina." I looked over to see her reaction to that, and was pleasantly surprised when she blinked a few times and nodded.

"Oh. Ok," she said. Ok? I thought. I was taking her almost 700 miles away from home and all she said was ok? I must have slipped, because she read my disbelief at her reaction.

"Well," she started. "I hadn't realized this place was so far away, but what can ya do, right? I mean, I said I'd go with you for six months, so what does it matter that it's in South Carolina? At least it's in the continental U.S., right?"

I smiled. This was going to be a great six months.


	3. Chapter 3

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Three**

The next six months were going to be hell. She was trying. God, was she trying.

Every morning, I would wake her up at the crack of dawn to go running. She would get up and go with me without complaint. Well, without any real complaining. But most of the time she would either throw up or collapse before she was half-way through the run. Then we'd come back and eat breakfast. Next on the list was the gun range, then we'd work our way through the gym. When we were done with that, we'd go back to the gun range. After that it was time for lunch. Then another trip to the gun range followed by a few hours of hand-to-hand and a final trip to the gun range before dinner. I was trying to give her everything she'd need as quickly as possible.

I was hard.  I was demanding.  I was worried.

I wasn't sure she could do it. I wasn't sure she had it in her. No matter how hard she tried, I was starting to worry that it wouldn't be enough. So I pushed harder.

We were three weeks into it, and had just finished dinner. After dinner was down time. She could do whatever she wanted so long as she didn't leave the compound, but she usually stuck with me. I wasn't sure why; most of the time I'd just watch television, read a book, deal with paperwork. Tonight was different, though. Immediately after the meal she excused herself and fled to her room. I shrugged at first, wondering if maybe she'd had enough of my company, if she'd needed a break from me. That would have been fine; I know I'm not the easiest person to live with even under the best possible circumstances.

But I couldn't let it go. Worry for her nagged at the corner of my thoughts to the point that I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing until I knew that she was alright. I was beginning to think that she was an addiction. It wasn't just now that I needed to know what she was doing; anytime she was out of my sight for more than five minutes, I felt compelled to go looking for her. So, shortly after she'd left, I followed. If she'd wanted space, she'd be shit outta luck.

Her door was shut and locked, but the rooms weren't soundproofed and I could hear her sobbing. I had no idea what to do. I made quick work of the lock and entered. Knocking never even occurred to me.  As soon as she heard me, she cut off the sounds. In fact, it sounded like she'd stopped breathing. She got up, head down and turned away from me, and walked to the bathroom. I heard her grab some tissues and splash some water on her face. When she came out, her eyes were still teary and red but she had a wobbly smile on her face. It worried me that she didn't want me to see her crying.

"What's wrong, babe?" I asked.

"Wrong?" she said. "What do you mean? So, what are you doing tonight?" At least she wasn't lying to me, I thought. Trying to get out of it by misdirection, but not lying.

"You've been crying, babe. Tell me what's the matter," I said, going over to where she was standing against the dresser. I slipped behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and felt her relax against me. That was good. At least she was still wanted me around. At least that wasn't the problem. It worried me how much that relieved me. 

"I'm just," she paused. "Tired, I guess. I've been trying so hard to do what you want, and it just seems like I'm never going to get it. I know you're disappointed in me, and that you're worried that you misjudged me and what I could do. So I'm tired. Sometimes, you just need to cry, Ranger. For, I don't know, an outlet. A release. That's all." I tried to process all of this, to understand what she was trying to tell me.

I was more used to dealing with young men who had already proven themselves dedicated to being a Ranger. It wasn't for lack of dedication that Steph wasn't progressing at the same rate. In fact, she was more determined than a lot of the boys I'd trained. The difference was that they had already been in good physical condition. That they had military discipline, and understood how the process worked. That, I now saw, was the key difference with Stephanie. That, and when they got this frustrated, they'd try to take a swing at me instead of quietly shedding some tears.  They'd never actually managed to hit me so it didn't bother me.  In fact, I was always glad that I had some indication of their mental well being.  Steph wouldn't be giving me such overt indicators, I realized. 

"Steph, I'm not disappointed," I said softly. "You're not a disappointment. I think that, considering, you've made leaps and bounds in a very short time. It's just that there's so much more that we have to do that I worry about getting it all done. But you're doing an excellent job, babe. A great job." With that I pressed a kiss to her head, just above her left ear, and squeezed her to me even more tightly.

She started to cry again. I don't know what it was that alerted me to it, she was crying so softly it was just tears running down her cheeks, but she had angled her face away from me, apparently hoping I wouldn't see.

"Babe," I said to get her attention. "Don't hide from me. You don't need to. You shouldn't have to. I need to know how you're doing, physically, mentally, and emotionally. You need to let me help you. This isn't going to be easy, it's not going to be a walk through the park. It's going to be very difficult and time consuming, and if you can talk to me about how you are, I can help you through it." Not to mention that I had this overwhelming _craving _in me to always know what she was doing, what she was thinking, how she was feeling, and why. But that had nothing to do with it. Really.

She turned in my arms to face me and buried her face into my neck, wrapping her arms around my waist and crying for all she was worth.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next morning she showed a marked improvement. Of course, I'd tweaked my approach with her, too. I told her that she only had to make it to the quarter mark on our run, but that she had to do the whole thing at a good pace. And she did. She made it through the entire run without a single mishap and didn't look defeated by seven in the morning. Every morning after, I made her run just a little bit more, to just past the point she was sure she couldn't go any further, but right before she'd collapse in misery. It only took her three weeks to make it past the halfway mark, and she was going farther every day.

Next on our schedule was our time in the gun range. I wanted to make sure that she could shoot her target no matter what. No matter if she was sweaty and exhausted, if her arms ached and her lungs burned from lack of oxygen, or if she was completely cold. So, I'd been taking her to the range before and after every other stop – the jogging course, the gym, lunch, hand-to-hand, everything. She'd never been particularly bad with her gun, so long as it was at the range and she'd had a few minutes to get used to the idea of shooting a gun.

Really, the problem was more that she was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of a gun in the first place. So I made a slight alteration and was again surprised at how rapidly I saw improvement. I just had her carry around her gun at all times, unloaded at first. She had to physically have it on her body at all times during the day, no matter if it was down time or in the gym or during hand-to-hand. Then, at random times, I would give her a target and tell her to shoot, immediately, whether there were bullets in the gun or not. The idea was to get her used to drawing the gun and pulling the trigger without having to think about the process. In just a few weeks, she progressed from an unloaded gun, to blanks, to live ammo. And as her confidence and comfort level grew, she became even better when we did accuracy at the range.

Hand-to-hand proceeded much the same way. She wasn't depressed and sure she was a failure by the time we got to hand-to-hand. Instead, she was happy with the day's accomplishments, and ready to learn more and maybe get in a score on me, if she was lucky. Mostly, she wasn't lucky, but I was waiting for when she wouldn't need to be. We worked for hours every night on hand-to-hand, going over everything I'd ever known or heard, trying to bring her up to speed, and she was surprisingly adept at it.

It seemed to me that the problems we'd been having were as much because I hadn't been handling her right as they were because she was such a novice. The thought was sobering, and I told myself that I'd be more aware of how she was doing emotionally as well as physically with the intense training we'd be doing. Not that I thought that would be a problem. I was constantly watching her, listening to her talk, being with her. But it was just to make sure she was doing well. That was all.

It wasn't long after that night where she'd cried in my arms that I was able to add more to our daily regimen. I trained her on how to use with a variety of different guns, knives, combat weapons, even swords and things like nunchakus. You never know what's going to mean the difference between survival and death. I taught her how to use computers, electronic equipment and covert ops gear. I showed her a number of undercover tricks and gave her tools that would help her survive in any situation. And, I taught her how to drive offensively so that if she was ever in a car chase, she could handle herself. Having learned to drive on the Jersey Turnpike, she started out already almost better than me.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was one of those times where she'd been out of my sight for more than a few minutes and hadn't told me where she was going. It was after dinner, and she really didn't have to tell me, but I liked to know what she was doing. Ok, so I had to know what she was doing.  Or I would go crazy.  I was pretty sure it wasn't healthy, this obsession I was developing.

I got up to look for her, heading towards her room. I heard her talking to her mom on the phone. It wasn't unusual, she tried to call her mother once a week. It was unusual that I happened to be close enough to hear her when she was making that call.

"No, mom," she said. "No. … No. … No! … No, I've told you before, he's not getting anything out of this. … I don't care what Morelli said. … No, ma… No, is it so hard to believe that maybe he's just a nice guy? … Yes, ma. Yes, I'm fine. … Yes, I remember about the cow. … No, the milk is safe. … Don't worry, ma. He's a good guy, who happens to be doing something nice for me. … Yes, ma. … No, ma. He's not getting anything out of it. … Fine. … Yes. Tell Dad hello, too. … Bye."

I watched as she thunked her head against the wall, and could just make out some grumbling about wanting to give the milk away.

I thought about her half of that conversation more than I thought I would. That she didn't know about the bet. And about the cow and milk thing. That was just weird.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was maybe a week after that phone call.  We were on the training mat practicing hand-to-hand, and she kicked me. Really kicked me. She had advanced with a left hook and taken me by surprise with her right foot. Then she'd followed up with her left, and I'd been flat on the ground. And I stayed there.

"Ranger?" she called. "Are you ok?" I didn't answer, and she immediately knelt next to me, laying a hand on my shoulder and a hand on my face.

"Ranger?" she asked again. And then I made my move. It only took seconds for me to pin her. She'd been worried and off guard and I'd capitalized on that advantage. Stephanie looked up at me, eyes wide.

"Always be on your guard," I told her. "Even when you think your opponent is down and out." I'd just started to get up when Stephanie twisted and pinned me. She smiled.

"Ditto," she said. This led to a wrestling match, with both of us trying to get the upper hand. And, somehow, that led to a more intimate wrestling where we yielded to each other.

We were lucky it didn't ruin the dynamic between us. She didn't expect me to all of a sudden be easy on her or gentle things for her. If anything, it just made us hyperaware of each other, but then, we'd already always been pretty sensitive of the other's presence. So it became a regular occurrence; every night, she slept in my room, and every morning went back to shower in hers.


	4. Chapter 4

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Four**

It had been three months. It was time for a test of some sort. I couldn't tell her what the test was, or when it would be, or even that a test was coming up. I was training her to be as good as an Army Ranger. One day, her life could depend on how well I'd done my job. I couldn't be gentle. I wouldn't be gentle.  And I had half a million dollars on the line.

So one night, when we were having dinner and Stephanie was smiling at me about one thing or another, I gave her the drugged juice. She was so unsuspecting when she took it. She didn't even think twice, just took it and started to drink. She was out within half an hour.

I grabbed the bag I'd made up the night before. In it was a single small blanket, a gun and a box of ammo, a knife, a compass, rope, duct tape, three energy bars, two bottles of water and a note. The note told her her mission and explained about the test. She had to survive for those three days using nothing but what was is in her sack, and in that time, she had to make it back to the compound and infiltrate it. In other words, she had to get inside the house by dawn on day four or she'd fail. On the back of the note was a rough map with two x's – one for her, one for the compound, and a compass rose. I put her and the bag into the Hummer and drove her to her starting point, just over twenty miles away.

When we got there, I put her pack on the ground and went back for her. Then I laid her on the ground, resting her head on the pack. She looked so helpless there. It was the very beginning of October, and the nights were cool. We'd been inside when I'd made the move, so all she had on was a pair of jeans and her t-shirt. Technically, it wouldn't be against the rules to dress her a little more. After all, if she'd been outside when I'd started the test, she would have had on another long-sleeved t-shirt and a jacket. She hates being cold. I quickly stripped off my own jacket and long-sleeved shirt and put them on her. I was freezing from being outside without a shirt, but I stayed for another few minutes to watch her. Then I turned on my heal, went back to my car and, with the heat on high, drove home to the compound to monitor her progress. Just, I thought as I grit my teeth, like the rules prescribed.

When I got back to the house, Tank was there. Great, I thought. Just what I needed. I managed to grab another shirt before I ran into Tank, but it was close. The reunion between us was as it always is – short and with little fanfare, but heartfelt and always with some measure of relief that we were both still alive and well. And, as always, it took only minutes for us to fall back in line as though we'd never been separated.

"So where is she, man?" he finally asked. I'd wondered how long it would take him to comment about her. Just under fifteen minutes. Yes, I'd timed it.

"First test," I said. His eyes lit up with an unholy glee.

"Good," he said softly. "After this, maybe you'll see that it's worthless to bet against me. It's just a waste of your money. I'll give you the info to make the arrangements with the bank in the morning."

"There's time yet," I said with an unconcerned shrug. In all the bets we'd made over the years, I'd only lost a handful. "And the only arrangements I'll be making with my bank is to accept a transfer of funds into it."

Tank snorted.

"How's she really doin'?" he wanted to know. I didn't blame him. If I were in his shoes, I'd want to know, too. I was noncommittal. After all, I was still in my own shoes, and hoping to buy more of them with his money.

"She's coming along fine," I said. "How long are you planning on staying? If you're here when she gets back, you'll be able to see for yourself."

"Good," he smiled. "Because I'm planning on just that."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, warming up to the idea of having him out here with Stephanie and me. My mind was already racing ahead to what the three of us could do. And it would be nice to have some down time with Tank.

"Yep. Wouldn't want to miss my chance to sample that fine piece of ass."

"Oh yeah?" I asked again, not nearly as keen on that idea as I had been on the first. It must have been evident in my voice.

"What," Tank challenged. "You got a problem with that or something?"

"It's just…" I trailed off, unsure of how I could explain what was between Stephanie and I without Tank nagging me to death over it.

"You think she couldn't handle me?" he asked.

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "She could handle you. I'm just not sure you could handle her."

"You got a thing for her?" Tank asked incredulously.

"It's more like we got a thing," I told him. And, as sometimes the best defense is a good offense, I went on it. "Why? You got a problem with it?"

"No problem here," he said with a grin. "You have a problem with a little healthy competition?"

I was surprised by my reaction. Yes, I wanted to say. I didn't. I couldn't. But if he touched her, I think I would go insane.

"So long as it doesn't distract from her training," I allowed.

"Ranger, man, if you're not distracting her, you're not doing it right," he said with a laugh, clapping me on the back. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm fucking her, Tank, and believe me, there are no complaints. She sleeps in my bed, but that's it. The rest of the time, I'm just her trainer."

"Then maybe she won't mind the competition, either," he said. "And I'm bunking with you. So if you want to fuck her, you can sleep in her bed. I'm not taking none of Steph's sloppy seconds."

I rolled my eyes at that but couldn't put the idea out of my head that maybe Stephanie would enjoy the competition. It was disturbing to me that I didn't want her to.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Son of a bitch," we heard her say. "Fucking manipulative bastard son of a goat's whore." We'd gone into the control room to track Stephanie's movements. She should have been up half an hour ago, according to the dosage of the knock-out pills and her body weight. After twenty minutes had passed with the tracker reporting no signs of movement and the bug transmitting nothing but silence, I'd been ready to go out and check on her. Tank had talked me into waiting another fifteen minutes. After all, he'd said, she might have been tired. Because I'd distracted her, his eyes added.

So half an hour after her estimated wake time, ten minutes into my extended wait period from hell, we heard the first sound of movement. It only took her a minute to orient herself, then she started damning me to what sounded like the seventh circle of Dante's hell. I listened for another few seconds and identified it as the first ring. It was getting kind of creepy, actually.

Then she calmed down and took stock of her situation.

"Good girl," I murmured without thinking. We heard rustling, like she was emptying her bag, seeing what she had to work with. Then there were the unmistakable sounds of her gun, checking how many shots she had. I imagined her equipping herself with what she thought she should have on her, then repacking her bag.

But the tracker stayed in place, and there were no more sounds coming from it.

"Think she found it?" Tank asked. I didn't have an answer, so I didn't say anything. Another five minutes passed, and still there was nothing.

"What's she doing, man?" Tank wanted to know. I did, too.

If she thought that she could just sit there until I came to get her, she was sadly mistaken. She could just sit there until she ran out of food and was forced to find the house. That's when these noises started coming through the mic. Neither Tank nor I could make out what she was doing. But at least the tracker was moving, albeit very slightly. And then she started pacing, or, at least, that was the best Tank and I could figure. It would go back and forth and back and forth, then slow down, change direction slightly. She was fucking pacing. We watched for an hour, just to see if she was going to do anything.

"So whatcha gonna do, big man?" Tank asked.

"Nothing," I said between teeth not quite clenched. "She has three days to get here. When they're up, we'll see."

Over the next few hours, we went back sporadically to check on her progress, and each time, there'd been none.

On the afternoon of day two, Tank was starting to crow about it.

"Guess your little protégé wasn't all you thought she'd be, huh Ranger?" he boasted, swaggering down the hall. I tripped him and told him to shut the fuck up and get ready because whether she was back or not we'd keep training. And then I went back to the control room to see if she'd moved. If she'd done _anything_. But no. There was nothing. 

And I was going crazy.  There was just enough doubt in my mind as to whether she had found the tracker to make me insane.  That I began to question if I really did know where she was.  That I began to wonder if she wasn't where I thought she was.  I wanted desperately to go track her on foot, but I couldn't. 

"What are you doing, babe?" I said to myself. I knew she was probably supremely pissed, but I'd also thought she would want to come home to tell me just how much. And to prove that she could. Instead, she was just sitting in that clearing. If it hadn't been for the occasional movements, I'd have been sure she'd ditched the tracker. But the movements were there. I shut my eyes and sighed. And I went out to meet Tank to go run.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So admit it, Rangeman. She's failed. No way can she complete the mission in the timeframe allowed. She's just too far away," Tank was saying to me as we walked in the door.

"We give her until tomorrow night," I said. "She still has a day and a half." Then we turned the corner and there she was.

"And you never know," she said, leaning against the wall with a lazy smile on her face and her gun pointed nicely at us. "She just might surprise you."

"Steph," I said with a smile of my own. "You made it back."

"Hunh," was all Tank could or would say.

"You're ahead of schedule," I said. "I didn't expect you to try until tonight. I thought we discussed the benefits of late night infiltration."

"We did," she agreed. "But as I know quite intimately the habits of my target, I felt it would be more appropriate to go in while I knew the house would be empty for close to an hour. So I waited until you left."

She paused, cocking her head to one side before continuing, "I didn't know there were schedules for this type of thing."

"Of course there are, babe. And the tracker was there to make sure you didn't get into any trouble. And so I could monitor your progress. How'd you find it, babe?"

"It was easy," she said. "When I thought about it."

Easy? It had been imbedded into the tongue of her shoe. Countless Ranger trainees before her, and only a handful had known the thing was planted on them. Even less had found it.

"Easy?" Tank sputtered before I could.

"Yes," Steph said as she leveled Tank with a look. "When I thought about it." She smiled and turned to me.

"Ranger wouldn't be able to do without knowing what was going on for three whole days; he's too much of a control freak. Therefore, he had to have a way of knowing. The easiest way was to plant something like a tracker on me. Then it was just a matter of finding it."

I just smiled and shook my head, though mentally I was taking exception to the control freak remark. Tank just stared.

"What did you do with it when you'd found it?" he finally asked.  "It moved."

"Used the duct tape to attach it to a piece of twine," she shrugged.  "Then tied it to a tree branch so it would sway in the wind a bit.  That way, you'd think I'd never left the drop off point.  And it worked, too, didn't it?"  She smirked.  The little devil.  Tank snorted and I just shook my head again.

"So did I pass the test oh great ones?" she asked with her head cocked to one side and her hip jut out to the other. "Because I'm hungry. So which of you wants to cook me some real food?"


	5. Chapter 5

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Five**

It was the first time Tank had left us alone in over a week. We were at the range, doing target practice with a variety of different weapons and he'd gone back to the house for a shower. I was explaining how the cartridge on one of the handguns worked when she picked up its mate, slammed a fresh cartridge home and shot five off down the range, all while looking straight at me.

"Thank you, Ranger," she said in a surprisingly calm voice. "I think I've gotten the hang of it."

I just looked at her, unsure of why she'd had such a dramatic moment and worried about where she might be heading with it.

"These are things we went over months ago, Ranger. Except you don't think about that or objectively grade how I'm doing, you're just going over all of it again because you're worried that I haven't learned it well enough and that Tank will say something to you, to me, to himself, doesn't matter. I got it the first time, Ranger, and I'm not a toy to show off to your friend. I don't have the time or the patience to let you go over old ground with me."

I just blinked and I think my jaw might have dropped a little bit.

"Do you not want Tank to know we were sleeping together?" she demanded, completely switching gears on me.

Were sleeping together. Past tense. Bad for me. And a hostile set to her shoulders. Even worse. I could tell her the truth, that he already knew, or I could lie. Neither option was particularly appealing to me and I couldn't gauge what her response to either of them might be.  No way of knowing which answer would have the better outcome.

"He already knows," I said, deciding that the truth was easier if, for no other reason, then that she couldn't get angrier later upon finding I'd told her a lie. 

"So then you just don't find me attractive anymore?" she wanted to know. "Maybe you swing both ways and are occupying your nights with Tank?"

"No," I exclaimed. Swing both ways? I think not. I thought I had better rectify that situation immediately. By fucking her as soon as I could for as long as she could stand it. Then maybe her mind would just _stop_ for a minute and give me a second to breathe.

"No you don't find me attractive anymore?"

"No," I protested.  "I meant Tank and I don't have a thing going."

"Good," she said. "Then maybe he wouldn't mind having some of my attention directed his way."

She squeezed off another round, set the gun back down on the counter and strolled out, leaving me in a daze, unsure of what that was or how any of it had happened.

I pressed the button to reel in the target paper and replace it with a new one, more out of habit than anything else. Then I reached to take it down and got a look at it. It was a silhouette target of a man. Five shots were all in the heart area. Good for her, I thought as I wondered where the last one was. I glanced down. Right through the crotch. Ouch.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

I was getting dinner ready that night when I realized that I was completely alone. And I couldn't hear Tank or Stephanie. There weren't any foot falls, no laughter, no talking. I stopped what I was doing and went to investigate, the various comments they'd made playing through my head, torturing me.

It surprised me, how much it hurt when I found them. Tank was pressing her against the wall with his hips and his mouth. Well, I thought as I congratulated myself on another screw up, it wasn't as though they hadn't warned me. Hell, they'd practically dared me to do something about it. Or they would. And they had.

But it was cold comfort that it was nobody's fault but my own. I was about to turn away and go back to fixing dinner when I saw it.

She pushed him away. I stepped back so they wouldn't see me.

"Tank, stop," she said. "I'm sorry, I don't want this." He leaned back in to catch her lips again, but she turned her head away.

"Please let me go," she asked quietly.

"What, you saving yourself for Ranger?" Tank asked, amusement playing clearly in his voice. I didn't like where this was headed.

"Ranger has nothing to do with this. I'm sorry, but I just don't want this. I don't feel like this for you, Tank.  I just want to be friends."

"Nothing to do with Ranger?" He mocked. "This is all about Ranger, Stephanie. Why do you think he hasn't touched you since I got here? Because he always shares, and he's waiting for me to have my turn. So come on, baby, I'll be good to you." He accentuated it with a thrust of his hips. I didn't know whether to step in and put an end to it or let it play out. I've always watched things from the sidelines, always let a situation run its course. It was rare that I involved myself.  Usually I would just let things come to a head on their own and let the chips fall where they may.  And so here I was, frozen, unsure what to do because I never intervene in things. Tank and Stephanie needed to work out the pecking order between themselves, work out their personal dynamic.  But this wasn't about which one of them was going to come out dominant.  This was just personal.  And it involved me, intimately.

"No, Tank, that's not true," she said, her voice still calm. "And you know it. He hasn't touched me since you've been here because he loves you best of all, and he's worried you don't approve. He was doing an excellent job training me, until you got here. Now he's thinking twice about everything he does, now he's distracted, now he's going back to basics because he's not concentrating. You need to realize I'm not taking him from you, Tank. But you may very well be taking him from me. Don't you think he may have enough of himself for us both? Now let me go. It's the last time I'm going to ask."

Tank just stood there, no longer trapping her, but not moving away, either. He seemed to be just as frozen as I was. Stephanie either didn't realize that or didn't care. I was betting that she just didn't care.  She grabbed the wrist on her shoulder and twisted with both hands, forcing Tank to bend in an effort to lessen the pain in his arm. Then she followed up with a knee to his balls and a heel to his toes and shoved him away from her. Then she calmly walked off to her room and quietly shut the door. I made my way back to the kitchen to finish dinner. It seemed we all had a lot to think about.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next night, after she'd gone to bed, I went into her room. I would have said that I crept, but nobody was around to notice. You can't creep if nobody's around to catch you at it. She was lying on her stomach, sprawled over most of the bed. I sat down gently so as not to disturb her and watched her sleep. It had been a long day for all of us, but hers had been especially grueling. I had worked her while Tank set up for the next round, then Tank had worked her while I'd set up for the round after that, and on and on it went. We'd kept her busy with grueling assignments the entire day.

Tentatively, I raised my hand to her head and ran it through her hair. She seemed to stir a little, so I just rested it on the nape of her neck. I didn't want her to wake up, it was best that she slept. She should have been exhausted.

But my hand wouldn't lie still, it started rubbing gently up and down her back. She stirred a bit, and I heard what might have been a small sigh of contentment. It occurred to me that she might be sore from such a hard day, and that she might appreciate a massage.

My hands started pressing ever so slightly on the knots in her back. When she didn't seem to wake any further, I started pressing harder, really kneading them out. As I moved down her back, the sheet moved with me. I noticed that all she was wearing a tiny little tank top, and even smaller panties.

I knew she must have been awake on some level, but it still surprised me when she spoke.

"You have the most amazing hands," she murmured, her voice low and husky from sleep. I paused, startled for a moment and unsure what to do.

"Don't stop," she breathed. I hesitated, then continued, and I heard her sigh in contentment. A few minutes later, I was almost positive she had fallen back asleep. I slowed my hands, softened the pressure, and eventually dropped one back to my lap. The other gently stroked her back, making its way down to the naked skin at the small of her back where her tank top had ridden up. My whole world seemed to shrink to that small patch of bare skin and I couldn't stop touching it, playing with it. I felt myself getting more and more aroused, my pants getting tighter and tighter.

I bent my head and put my lips to her skin, my left hand stroking higher on her back under her shirt, my right slipping under her stomach and sliding lower. I heard Stephanie moan in delight, and felt her turn her hips in my hands so she was facing me.

Somehow, I managed to get both of our shirts off and she wrapped her legs around me to draw me close. I saw her lips open slightly and it was hypnotic. My neck bent and my mouth met hers, seemingly of its own volition. After that, I was gone.

Sometime later, when we were both too tired to do anything but sleep, she lay her head on my shoulder and slinked her arm around my chest.

"Are you going to stay with me tonight, Ranger?" she asked.

"Mmm," I mumbled, setting my hands on her back and letting them drift.

"You know Tank will know where you were? What you were doing?" she asked.

"Mmm hmm," I hummed.

"And you're ok with that?" she wanted to know.

"Mmm," I agreed. I felt tension I hadn't even know was there flow out of her.

"Good," she said. "I'm glad." I circled my arms around her and held on. And we slept.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

I woke up still holding her, and savored the feeling. I'd missed it this past while, and wasn't sure how I felt about that. I wasn't sure I was ready to let her be such an integral part of my life, so entrenched in my thoughts and feelings. Of course, it didn't look like I had much choice. Turning my head to glance at the clock, I forgot momentarily that we weren't in my room and the clock wouldn't be in the same place.

Instead of looking for it, I spent a minute trying to decide what to do about the woman in my arms. I could leave, let her wake up alone. If it was my bedroom, I would have known what to do. Mostly, I wake up before the alarm had the chance. When she had slept in my bed, I would leave her asleep and let the alarm wake her while I went to take a shower. She was always gone by the time I came back, and I'd always been torn – glad to avoid the complications it could bring to my life, disappointed she was no longer naked in my bed. But I was in her room, and Tank was in mine.  And I wasn't sure I wanted to leave.  I wasn't sure I didn't want the complications. I wasn't sure what I wanted or what I should do.

Just then, her alarm went off. She groaned, but rolled out of bed and shut it off before heading for the bathroom. A few minutes later, I heard the water start running. She hadn't even acknowledged me. I'd been in her bed when she'd woken up, and she hadn't even said a good morning. Hell, I'd been underneath her when she'd woken up, and she hadn't even looked my way.

My eyes flit around the room, taking in the slight changes she'd made, things she'd done to it, that had made the space personal, that had marked it as her own. I realized that this was only maybe the second time I'd been in this room since Steph had moved in. No, since we'd gotten here, I corrected myself. We'd always done things in my space, on my terms. It was something to think about. I'd get right on that after I was done getting over the hurt from her lack of acknowledgement this morning.

But I couldn't not think about it.  My space.  My terms. My lead. It started to slowly come together in my head. This was nothing more than what I'd done.

I wondered if it had hurt her. I wondered if she'd lain in my bed and felt what I had this morning. That sting of rejection. I wondered if she hadn't felt that every morning after she'd been in my bed.

Of course she had.

And then she'd gotten up and left before I was out of the shower.

She'd been keeping things simple for me. Letting me have that space I had so desperately needed. She'd somehow known I couldn't let her become too ingrained in my life too soon, and had kept things between us simple. For me.

And suddenly, unexpectedly, keeping her from becoming such a vital, innate, _essential_ part of my life didn't seem so important anymore. That part of me came out of the bathroom, then, glistening from the water she hadn't bothered to try off. She looked startled to seem me, still lying in her bed.

"What are you still doing here, Ranger?" she asked, eyes drawn in confusion. She'd followed my lead, and now she expected me to follow hers. She was in for a surprise.


	6. Chapter 6

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Six**

She was surprised. I got out of bed and went to stand so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to look at me. Then my hands went to her hips, drawing her to me so that we were one, seamless line.

"I'm not leaving, Steph," I told her. "And from now on, I don't want you to, either." Her eyes opened a little bit more, like she wasn't sure I meant what I had said, like she wasn't sure she could believe I had said it.

"I always thought you wanted me to leave," she said, still confused and unsure of what was happening. "I didn't want it to be weird and I thought you wanted me to go."

"I don't want you to go in the morning anymore, Stephanie," I repeated for her. "I don't want you to go at all." She was going to say something else, continue the conversation. I love listening to her most of the time, I love watching her think something through. But just then, talking and thinking were not on my top ten list. I bent my head and took her lips with mine. By the time we broke apart, the list had become X-rated.

"Training?" she asked. Her voice was breathy and she was panting slightly. If she could still ask questions, then I obviously wasn't doing enough. _Ranger, man, if you're not distracting her, you're not doing it right_, came Tank's voice in the back of my head. Screw him. I got the girl.

"I'm officially giving us a day off," I told her before I went back to distracting her. And she didn't ask any more questions.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Ranger!" Tank bellowed as he pounded on the door. "Wake up! Get your lazy ass out of bed."

Stephanie was currently having a very good time with that ass, and I wasn't inclined to get out of bed.

"I don't think he knows about the day off, Ranger," she said. I couldn't see her, but I knew she was smirking. And she'd stopped what she'd been doing. I twisted us so I could see her face, and sure enough, there was a smirk. But she also looked apprehensive. She was still worried about me, and how I would react when Tank knew. I pulled her head to me and kissed her.

"Ranger!" Tank roared even louder.

She pulled away and giggled.

"Think we can drown him out babe?" I asked. She blushed.

"If you don't get out here, I'm gonna break the door," Tank yelled. I rolled my eyes and got out of bed, heading for the door. I didn't bother to look for my clothes. Stephanie scrambled for the sheets once she realized that I was going straight for the door. I didn't see why, she was beautiful. And while I don't share, I have no problem with flaunting.

I yanked the door open, catching Tank by surprise.

"Go away, Tank," I told him. "We have the day off."

He took in my lack of dress, Stephanie hiding under the sheets, and the various marks I had on me. We're a little aggressive in bed, Stephanie and I are.  Between the two of us, there really isn't much we won't try.  And we tend to leave signs of it. Scratches, bruises, bites, I think we even got rug burn this time. If you can get that from sheets. Maybe it's sheet burn. Tank just blinked, unsure of what his response should be for this scenario. Apparently, he'd thought we were just oversleeping. Silly him.

"Oh?" he asked.

"Yeah. Federal holiday," I smirked, shutting the door in his face. "Feeling noisy yet, babe?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eventually, Steph was hungry enough to complain about it.

"No, Ranger," she said, slapping my hands away. "I'm hungry. I need food." I thought about convincing her otherwise, trying to see if I could. I knew how much she valued her food, but I was pretty sure that if I put my mind to it I could … distract her. But I was hungry, too.

"Fine, babe," I told her, rolling out of bed and grabbing my boxers and my gun. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Ten minutes, Ranger," she said. "I need at least ten minutes. I need to breathe, give myself a few minutes to recoup. Don't come back a second before."

I walked out of the room, shutting the door in case Tank walked by. Flaunting while I'm there to strut about it is one thing. Sneaking peaks while I'm not is another. I didn't have to worry; Tank was in the kitchen when I walked in.

"She finally kick you out?" he asked, smiling.

"No," I said with what I knew was a smug look on my face. "I was sent in search of fortification." He cocked his head, unsure of what I meant.

"She needs sustenance.  For stamina," I told him. He laughed out loud and I grinned back at him.

I moved around the kitchen, grabbing some croissants from the bread box and butter and a chocolate spread from the fridge. I paused, getting orange juice and strawberries, as well the champagne I'd bought last time we'd gone to the store in town. There had been a nice local woman who'd pushed it on us. Now I blessed whatever foresight she seemed to have. I took down champagne flutes and a large serving plate.

Looking at the clock, I saw that the ten minutes was nowhere close to having passed. I leaned back against the counter, pouring myself a glass of the orange juice. In fact, I thought, if I ate my breakfast now, it would save time for later.

"So what," Tank smirked. "Don't you want to go back into the den of the beast?  You need a break or something? "

"No," I said finishing off the juice and taking a croissant for myself. "She begged me for a breather." My mind was elsewhere, thinking of the not so distant future in the so-called den of the beast. And how not only would it save time if I ate out here, but when I went back in there, it would let me make her breakfast a much more erotic experience. Tank snorted and it brought me back to the present.

"What?" I asked. He didn't have time to answer me, though. Stephanie opened her door and peaked around the wall into the kitchen.

"Remember how I said I wanted ten minutes, Ranger?" she asked. I nodded.

"I changed my mind. Get back in here. And bring the food," she ordered, disappearing back into the bedroom. I scooped everything up and followed seconds later to Tanks booming laughter.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

We finally emerged sometime close to dinner. Tank was very, very glad that we did. Not only because it meant that he could finally shut off the radio, but because he was hungry. Tank has been banned from using stoves, ovens, toasters, microwaves, etc. in any and all of my properties and places of residence. He managed to set fire to three of them, using different appliances each time. One time, it had been while using a blender. I still don't understand how he'd managed that one.  So now he can use the refrigerator and the freezer. Period. No, he cannot use the microwave.  That was one of the three as well.

I started to throw something together, Stephanie sitting on the counter watching me and Tank leaning against the wall next to her.

"So," Tank had drawled. "Federal holiday, huh?" Stephanie blushed.

"Columbus Day," I told him. And it was, too. Tank chuckled. I wanted to bring something up, but didn't know how to start the discussion.

"I'd like you to move out of my bedroom, Tank," I requested. Or, I thought, instead of having a plan to start the conversation well, I could just blurt it out. After all, it was part of the master plan to move Stephanie in as soon as possible.  So it's not like it was completely planless.

"And where would I move to?" he asked.

"Stephanie's room," I said. Obviously.

"Will she still be there?" he wanted to know. She smacked him on the back of the head. Hard enough for it to make a solid sounding thwack. Good for you, babe.

"No," was all I said. In the tone I'd used, it was probably all I'd need to say.

"Then no," Tank said. "Sorry, buddy, you're stuck with me."

"You're moving, Tank," I told him. It was not up for discussion, and that seemed to be all he wanted to do.

"No, I'm really not," he said without concern. He should have been concerned. People who piss me off tend to come out the other side of it worse for the wear.

"You're moving, and that's final."

"I said at the start I was rooming with you," he informed me. "And that's what I plan on doing." I stopped what I was doing with the food and looked at him.

"What are you doing, Tank?" I asked him. What I really wanted to know was if he still wanted to get into Stephanie's pants. That would be unacceptable. Actions would have to be taken.

"Not eating," he complained. Was he kidding me?

"Have you discussed this with Stephanie?" he continued on. "If I'm moving into her room, and she's moving out of it, where does that put her? On the couch? In your bedroom? Have you talked about this to Stephanie at all?"

I just stared and blinked for a few seconds, before shifting my eyes to the lady in question.

"Not as such, no," I admitted.

"So you were just going to move her in and you didn't even consider that maybe she doesn't want to? What if she wants her own space? What if she wants to spend a night without you making kissy faces at her." He was relentless. He was also grasping at straws, trying to get my goat. From the look on Stephanie's face, he was completely off base.

"Are you saying that if I talk to Stephanie about it, you'll move?" I wanted to clarify.

"No."

"Will any line of reasoning get you the hell out of my bedroom?" I asked.

"No."

"Then you better get ready for a lot of cold meals, because I won't be cooking anything you'll eat for quite a while," I threatened.

"That's why they have take-out," he retorted. I really didn't understand why he was being such an ass about this. I didn't understand why it was this about which he was putting up a stink. But he'd dug in his heels. Great.

"Tank," Stephanie asked. "Would it be alright if you and I switched out our sleeping arrangements? It really doesn't make sense for Ranger to have to go back and forth between his room and mine. And since we're two people, and Ranger's room is bigger, it makes more sense if we have that room. So is that ok with you? I would really appreciate it."

Tank smiled and shook his head.

"Sure, darlin'," he said. "Whatever you want."

"Thanks," she said, kissing him on the cheek before jumping off the counter and wrapping her arms around my waist. She smiled at me and kissed my neck, just below the point where it meets my chin. Right next to the spot where I had a pretty sizable bruise. I started to wonder how the kitchen counter would do and if she was into exhibitionism at all…

"I'll go start packing," she said and flounced out of the kitchen.

I just stood there, looking back and forth between Tank and the doorway Steph had used, unsure of what had just happened.

I'd told Tank to move. He'd refused. Steph had asked. He'd agreed.

Yes, I was confused. Very, very confused. So I went back to making dinner.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

A few days had passed since the moving thing had happened. A few _tense_ days between Tank and I. It seemed as though Tank thought the balance of power had shifted since I'd moved Stephanie into the master bedroom. Tank seemed to think it meant I'd gone soft or that he now had the upper hand. He thought wrong.

We were on the mat with Stephanie, trying to show her a rather complicated move. She was trying, but couldn't quite grasp what I wanted her to do.

"Show me?" she demanded. "Just show it to me, and maybe I'll finally fucking _get_ it." Then she sat at the edge of the mat, obviously planted until she got a demonstration.

I was still looking at Stephanie, about to say something encouraging when I saw Tank move out of the corner of my eye. I spun and blocked, turning back to him completely to meet his attack head on. I'd known that the situation between us was going to boil over at some point; I hadn't thought it would be so soon.

He came at me and I used his momentum to keep it from connecting completely, but we both went flying. It was vicious, the two of us rolling around that mat. Neither of us were being careful, neither of us were pulling our punches.

"What's the matter, Ranger?" Tank goaded. We were still weaving and dodging, landing something now and again.

"You wanna start this?" I asked.

"She got you so whipped you can't even talk the talk anymore?" he sneered.

"Oh, I can talk the talk.  You should stick to silence.  You shouldn't have said that shit to Stephanie last week. I don't share," I said as I landed one to his gut. "Ever. You know that, you bastard. And you're _not_ going to be good to her. Not while I'm around. She's mine, and nobody messes with what's mine."

He got in some good shots; I got in more. I'm not sure how long it would have lasted or how hurt either of us would have been at the end. Why? Because it was ended for us. Neither of us noticed Stephanie yelling at us. We didn't notice her grab something off the shelf. We didn't notice when she approached us. And we didn't notice when she put us down. Neither of us knew what hit us until we woke up.

"Babe?" I called groggily. "Babe?"

"I'm here, Ranger," she said. She was sitting next to my left shoulder, running her hand over my forehead and through my hair. I was splayed flat on my back.

"What happened?" I asked. I didn't understand what was going on. The last thing I remembered was fighting with Tank, and then I woke up on the mat.

"I stunned you," she replied calmly.

"What?" I let out something of a strangled sound. It might have been construed as a word.

"I stunned you," she said again.

"Why?"

"You were hurting each other," she said, this time with anger. "You were just hurting each other, and I needed you to stop. It was stupid – it wasn't going to solve the problems between you two. And there was no end in sight. So I took matters into my own hands." I blinked.

"Tank?" I asked.

"Woke up a minute before you did," she told me. "You won't get any help from that corner. I already yelled at him and sent him to his room."

"You… What?" Suddenly, I wasn't sure I hadn't hit my head on something. This whole situation was surreal. Stephanie had stunned us. Sweet Stephanie had gotten into the middle of our brawl, and stunned us. She'd stunned _me._ And she'd sent Tank to his room. Surreal.

"Are you ok?" she asked. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

"Other than having been fried by a couple thousand volts a few minutes ago, I'm fine," I told her. So I was a little bit angry myself. I think I had a right to be. She'd _stunned_ me. And Tank. But she'd _stunned_ me.  Me. 

Her hand paused where it was stroking my cheek.

"Get the fuck over it," she snorted. "It would have been worse if I'd let you two morons beat the hell out of each other."

It would have been harsh if I hadn't looked at her face and seen the concern, the worry etched into her features. I covered the hand on my cheek with my own.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get you to our room. I need to make sure you're ok."

"Gonna play nurse, babe?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I'm mad at you right now. Maybe later." I felt my eyebrows lift up in surprise.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked her.

"No. I need to make sure you really aren't hurt. Tank thinks he has a concussion and I wouldn't be surprised if his ribs are bruised. For that matter, I wouldn't be surprised if yours were, too. Now get up and march, mister." And I did.  Well, I got up and headed for our room.  I couldn't march; I was pretty sure Steph was right and my ribs were in fact bruised.

So maybe Tank had been right after all. The balance of power had shifted, but not to him. It seemed as though Steph had it, now, and neither of us could figure out how it had happened, or how we could get it back.


	7. Chapter 7

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Seven**

The next day was always worse.  Muscles had time to go stiff; bruises had time to set in deep.  I groaned when I woke up, knowing that Stephanie was laying next to me.  I was hoping for sympathy points if I played up being hurt.  She'd been pissed last night.  Really, really pissed.

She was curled up into my side so only one of my arms could really wrap around her, and she was very carefully not laying on me.  She was worried she'd hurt me.  I was sore, but I wasn't that sore.  I pulled her on top of me and did this thing with my finger that had her moaning as she woke up.  I slipped into her and let her hips set the pace, my hands resting at her waist and helping to keep her balance more than anything else.  I spilled into her just as she started convulsing around me, and it was over for both of us really before it had even started. 

She dropped back on top of me then scrambled off immediately after, as though remembering that she could hurt me.  She really couldn't, she's just not bulky enough.  Not that I'm complaining.  And I knew that if Steph had somehow developed telepathy in the past ten minutes, I'd be screwed.  Using the word bulky in reference to a woman's weight, no matter how complimentary, is a capital offense.  While I wasn't completely sure why she'd been so pissed over the fight Tank and I had, this I knew.  After all, I'm not completely stupid.

"You're not gonna hurt me, babe," I told her as she looked me over.

"Have you seen yourself yet this morning?" she asked me.  Well, no, I hadn't, seeing as how I hadn't even been out of bed yet.  "Then don't brush off my concern."

I must have looked pretty bad. 

"Does that mean you won't play nurse this morning?" I teased. 

She hit my arm. 

"Ow," I whined.  "I'm injured, babe, remember?"

She just rolled her eyes. 

"I'm going to go check on Tank," she told me, getting out of bed.  I groaned at the loss of her next to me, but decided to get out of bed and follow her.  After all, if Tank couldn't get out of bed, there could be some major fun had at his expense when I could.  The wimp.  Of course, I didn't take into account the fact that I might not be able to get out of bed, either.  A minor flaw in my plan, I'll admit. 

I stood up and quickly had to sit back down I was so dizzy.  Stephanie was there not a second later. 

"Don't try to get out of bed, Ranger," she admonished, but it was surprisingly gentle.  At least she hadn't asked a stupid question like 'are you ok?'  Yeah, I was just fine.  It's not like standing is an important skill for life or anything. 

"Just relax for the day.  I'll take care of everything."  I hate it when people take care of me.  Hate it.  She sighed, and I couldn't help but wonder if she'd somehow psychic-ed that out of my head.  I wouldn't put it past her. 

"At least relax until I get back," she asked me.  "I need to go make sure that Tank hasn't lapsed into a deadly coma of death, or something."  I just nodded, not willing to commit to anything or comment on her redundancy.  She threw on a pair of my boxers and a tank top and went for Tank.  Last week, that would have worried me.  After last night, I knew Tank knew she was off-limits.  Who says violence doesn't solve anything?

I heard knocking followed closely by some yelling and the door being slammed.  Steph came back into our room seconds later, a blush dusting her cheeks a deep, cherry red. 

"Babe?" I asked. 

"No," she said quickly.  "I'm not discussing it.  I'm not talking about it.  I'm trying hard not to remember it.  In fact, it never happened.  I've just now gotten out of bed and am now going to go and get some breakfast for us both.  I never went to check on Tank.  It never happened." 

She was babbling.  I wondered what had happened to make her so embarrassed, but decided not to push it.  After all, I could get it out of Tank later.  She was still muttering about going blind or something along those lines as she walked back out of the bedroom, presumably to the kitchen.  Huh.  I figured it was safe to assume that Tank had not lapsed into the deadly coma of death after all.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Stephanie had managed to get both Tank and I into the family room by midmorning.  Even though both of us were sore enough to severely limit movement.  Even though she still blushed every time she looked at Tank.  I really wanted to know what had happened.

I was desperately trying to get her out of the house for a bit.  I hate being taken care of, but I hate being fussed over even more.  And I wanted to grill Tank on what had happened.  Finally, I told her to go take a run.  I convinced her that she couldn't slack off in her training just because Tank and I had been idiots.  I think it was the idiot thing that got her to go.  Women the world over think men are idiots.  Never underestimate the power of admitting it to them.  It gets them to do all sorts of fun things.

So she got ready to go through her paces by herself.  It would take her three hours.  Of course, before she left, she had to give us a small cooler filled with bottled water, a couple of sandwiches, and bags of whatever she thought we could possibly want while she was gone.  It was only three hours, and Tank and I were not completely immobile, just…mostly.  I rolled my eyes, but didn't comment.  After all, I wanted her to leave, not stay and argue with me.  Then she handed me the remote for the t.v. and the phone, dropped a kiss on my forehead and headed out.  Finally.

"So," I said to Tank as soon as the door shut behind her.  "What the hell happened this morning?"  Tank squeezed his eyes closed and set on of his big hands over his face.  If I hadn't been so sure it was impossible, I would have thought he was blushing.  I looked harder.  No, there was a slight tinge to his face. 

"Shit, Tank, now I gotta know," I demanded, not bothering to hide my curiosity.  "Steph had the same reaction, but she's more prone to embarrassment than you.  Hell, until now, I didn't think you could be embarrassed.  What the hell happened?"

"No," Tank said.  "No, nothing happened.  Stephanie did not come to check on me this morning.  There was nothing happening.  She saw nothing.  Nothing." 

I tried to get a word in edgewise, but Tank kept muttering "no," and "nothing," cutting me off without letting me get anything out.  Well.  Wasn't this interesting.  I had to know what happened.  No, I really, really had to.  My next step would be to push Steph again.  But for now, I let it drop.

I started flipping through the channels, but there was nothing appealing on any of them.  Somehow, this surprised me, as I had something like a thousand channels.  So I started to flip through them all again.  When I got back to where I'd started, I checked my watch to see how much time had passed.  Ten minutes since Steph had left.  Shit.  I still had two hours and fifty minutes left until she came back to me. 

Tank complained when I started to flip through the channels for a third time and I relinquished control of the remote to him.  Not like I could settle on anything anyway.  I checked my watch again.  Two hours, forty-eight minutes.  Tank started to flip.  I was going to go crazy.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

After suffering through another twenty minutes of Tank's television preferences, I broke down and called her.

"Hello?" she answered, out of breath. 

"Yo, babe."

"Is everything ok?" she asked me.  I could hear the concern in her voice.

"Sure," I said, playing it cool.  "Just wanted to see how far along you are by now."

There was a pause. 

"So you didn't really want anything then?" she asked.

It was my turn to pause.  So she'd seen right through me.  Great.  Apparently my motives are now as clear as day.

"No," I finally admitted.

"Tank driving you nuts?"

"Yes?" I answered, wondering how she could possibly have known that.

"Play nice and maybe tonight I'll play nurse."

"Really?"

"Maybe.  Depends on how good you've been."

"Oh, babe, I can be really, really good."

She laughed, and Tank started whacking me with a couch pillow. 

"Gotta go, babe."  I hung up on her and started thwacking him with a pillow.  Much to his chagrin.  After all, he still had a concussion.  I only had bruised ribs.  Of course, it was to my chagrin, too, because the movement hurt my ribs.  We both groaned and settled back on the couch, content to sit in almost comatose silence for a while.  Then we ate some of the stuff from the cooler and I took back the remote.  And the whole cycle started all over again.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

After a few more times round the Ferris Wheel I got tired of it.  That and Steph threatened to sleep on the couch for a week if I called her again within half an hour.  I had twenty-two minutes before I could call her.  One hour and forty-eight minutes before she got back.  So I started to needle Tank. 

"Steph said she yelled at you," I mentioned, pretending to look at the channels flicking by.  Tank just grunted. 

"She said she sent you to your room," I said.  This time, I glanced over at him and smirked a little.  He was looking at me and saw. 

"I wouldn't put it quite like that," Tank said.  Now we were getting to the meat of it.  He wasn't denying it.  Goody.

"So?" I prodded.  He turned his full attention to me and I looked right back.

"You wanna know what she said?" he asked me.  I nodded.

"Tough shit.  Ask her," he told me.  And he went back to flicking channels.  Good, so he wouldn't make this easy.  My earlier interrogation about what had happened this morning having been successfully shut down, I was determined to get an answer on this.

"Tank, tell me," I demanded.  Unfortunately, I think it came out as more of a whine than an order.  Oh, well.  He held out for maybe ten minutes, but in the end I prevailed.  As I'd known I would. 

"Fine.  She told me to get my ducks in a row, because you're better and the next time I pushed you that far because I was…" he paused, shook his head, and picked back up.  "That the next time I pushed you that far, she'd let you beat the shit out of me.  Then she dragged me to my bed and went back to you."

"That's all she said?" I nudged.  Tank sighed.

"She said I was being stupid.  And she said I was provoking you because I was emotionally unsettled and that I was being an idiot about it.  Because provoking you isn't smart.  I believe her exact words were, 'You'd go down, Tank.  You'd go down hard.'  That's what she told me.  Now will you drop it."

"Sure," I shrugged as though it had never really mattered in the first place.  But this was interesting information.  Very, very interesting.  At least I'd have something to think about until I could call Steph again.


	8. Chapter 8

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Eight**

Somehow, even with me calling and interrupting her so often, she managed to make it through everything a full hour early. She walked in, out of breath and dripping in sweat. I wanted to take her against the doorframe. And I would have, except for this slight problem I was having with standing up.

"Hey boys," she said breezily. "How'd you make out?"

"Tank hogged all the food," I complained.

"Only 'cause you wouldn't let me have the remote back," he retorted. I just shrugged. It was true.

She chuckled and dropped a kiss on my forehead.

"Do your ribs still hurt a lot?" she asked, concern written all over her face. I bristled. She wasn't back five minutes and already she was hovering.

"I'm fine," I said shortly, ignoring the hurt she was quickly hiding. "What did you cut out of your regimen to get back so quickly?" She blinked a few times before answering.

"Nothing," she said. "I just really pushed. I thought I should come back as soon as I could." The implication was there that she was no longer sure it was the right move.

"Do you guys need anything before I take my shower?" she asked, gathering herself back together. "Advil or water or something?"

"We're fine, Steph," I told her.

"Hey, speak for yourself there, buddy. I could use some Tylenol, if you don't mind," Tank said, giving me a funny look. Steph immediately perked up.

"Of course," she said as she headed for the closet that held the extra linens as well as the medical supplies. "I'll bet you're pretty sore."

She came back with the bottle of Tylenol and two glasses of water. She gave one to Tank and set the other on the table next to me before opening the bottle and shaking some pills into Tank's waiting hand.

"Thanks, Steph," Tank said. I rolled my eyes. A man in his mid-thirties could open a pill bottle without any interfering help. Steph smiled at him, then turned to look at me, cocking her head to the side. She bit her bottom lip for a second before turning away.

"Alright," she said. "I'm going to take my shower now." She didn't look at me as she left, but on her way past me, she set the bottle of Tylenol next to my unwanted water.

Then Tank really looked at me.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

I just ignored him. Unfortunately, that didn't deter him.

"You couldn't wait for her to get back, and as soon as she walked in the door you started sniping at her."

I tried ignoring him again. It didn't work any better than the first time. It made it worse that he was right.

"Ranger, stop being a pussy," he snorted. "At least take some anti-inflammatories. You know better than to miss a dose."

I sighed and grabbed the Tylenol and swallowed them down. Damn woman, I thought, being perfect and knowing I'd take the damn pills and leaving me the damn water before I'd even needed it. I went back to ignoring Tank. As I would until he had something interesting to say. It turned out I didn't have to wait very long.

"Fine," he grumbled and settled back to watch whatever was on the television. A few seconds later he sat up again and looked at me.

"Hey," he said with a suspicious look on his face. "How did you know about that before? That scuffle between Steph and I?"

"The one last night? Where she yelled at you?" I asked incredulously, not understanding why he was asking. "She told me."

"No, not the one last night. When I said, you know, about sharing, and I was trying to get her into bed," he wanted to know. Oh. That scuffle. "You mentioned it during our disagreement. Did Steph go running to you with her problems? Didn't want to deal with me on her own so she went crying to you, is that it?"

I just shook my head and smiled.

"Oh, no. She never said a word to me about it. And I think she dealt with you and your problems pretty well all on her own, Tank," I smirked, remembering how she'd pushed him away from her. Forcibly.

"Then how did you…" Tank trailed off, shaking his head.

"You were there. Man, sometimes I think you really are smoke," Tank complained. I smiled. It was a theory I liked to reinforce whenever I had the chance.

"Does Steph know you know?" Tank asked. "She heard us trash talking during our… argument. So have you talked to her about you being there?"

Shit. I hadn't. And I didn't have the chance to talk to Tank about it any more as Steph came back into the room, clean from her shower and bearing lunch. Sandwiches, as Steph was even more dangerous in the kitchen than Tank. And chicken soup. She was really taking this nursing thing seriously.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was after dinner and the three of us were back on the couch. This time, Steph had control of the remote. She managed to find what had to be the girliest movie ever. Watching it did not fit my image.

"I don't want to watch a chick-flick, babe," I complained.

"I strongly object to the term 'chick-flick,' babe," she said without turning her attention away from the television. I blinked a few times, unsure what was going on, then rolled my eyes. But I dropped it. I'm not always the brightest crayon in the box, but I know when I'm on the edge of a dangerous precipice. Neither Tank nor I said another word about the movie.

When it was over, she flipped until she found another movie. One that I happened to consider sufficiently manly to make up for having sat through what I would never again call a chick-flick. And she watched it with just as much interest and enjoyment as she had the chick…other movie. And I couldn't help but think that she really does have some interesting quirks. Some might even call them strange.

After the second movie was over, Stephanie decided that she wanted cake. Or maybe chocolate ice cream, whichever she could find first.

"You usually have cake in your fridge, Ranger?" Tank asked. "Cake and ice cream? In the fridge of the health guru?" During that first week when she'd stayed with me in Trenton, I'd learned that I should have chocolate ice cream in the freezer at all times. Unless, of course, I wanted an emotional meltdown in my kitchen.

I just shrugged.

"No cake," Steph told Tank as she looked at me. "Unfortunately." I made a mental note to buy some next trip into town.

"Don't worry, we'll have to make some in a few weeks. After all, you're birthday's coming up, isn't it Ranger?" Tank cajoled. "How are you gonna be now? Forty-five? Fifty?"

He knew exactly how old I was, and he knew exactly when my birthday was. And it was still three weeks away.

"Thirty-six," I clarified for Stephanie's sake. "On November tenth. I'm a year older than he is and he's never let me live it down."

"A year and five months," he specified.

"I know, I know. One year, five months, and seventeen days," I said, rolling my eyes.

"So that would be what, April?" Stephanie asked. "My sister's birthday is April twenty-ninth."

"Two days after mine," he crowed. "April is a good month."

"When's your birthday, babe?" I asked, more to get Tank to stop swaggering about his youth than anything else.

"Hmm? Oh, sometime last week," she said absently. Both Tank and I stopped our horsing around and turned to her.

"Are you serious, Stephanie?" Tank asked.

"About my birthday? Yeah. It's October twelfth. Why?"

"Why? You didn't say anything, that's why," I explained, very surprised. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know. I guess I forgot. It just didn't seem important," she shrugged. "But I did miss the birthday cake." I revised my earlier opinion about her quirks. Stephanie was, without a doubt, the strangest woman I'd ever known.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

After the cake debacle, Stephanie had helped Tank into his room before coming back to get me. I'd already stood up and was bringing plates and bowls into the kitchen.

"Ranger," she admonished. "You were supposed to wait for me."

"You can lighten up with the nurturing thing, babe," I told her, my voice not quite harsh but not very nice, either. "I've gotten along fine without you for years now." She froze and I immediately regretted my words and that I'd done nothing to take the sting out of them.

"Fine," she said stiffly. "Then you can get along fine without me now as you clean up. I'm taking a bubble bath."

A bubble bath. Sweet Jesus what an image.

"I was going to let you take one with me," she continued. "As a reward for being a good boy all day. But you were mean. So now I'll take it by myself."

"But…but…" I sputtered, imagination going wild. Steph ignored me and sashayed right out of the kitchen. I started to go after her, then I sighed. She was right. I had been mean. So I cleaned up the kitchen, even though it hurt to bend, as some sort of penance. Then I went to find her.

I hesitated, debating whether to knock on my own bedroom door. Then I decided the hell with it. It was my bedroom, and I could come and go as I pleased. And besides, she was probably still in the bathroom.

"Babe, can I come in?" I asked as I knocked gently. She didn't say anything for so long I thought I should go in and check to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep or gotten hurt.

"Babe?" I called again.

"Yeah," she said. "Sure." She was so beautiful, lying there with her hair pinned up and the bubbles surrounding her. She was like some sort of goddess. The lights were off and she'd lit a few fat candles to see by, and her wet skin reflected the soft light and made her glow. I hadn't even known there were fat candles in the house, but I was glad she'd found them.

"What did you want, Ranger," she asked as she stared at me with a confused look on her face. "I was trying to relax."

The implication being that she couldn't relax while I was around. I felt like an interloper. I felt like an idiot. Like I was intruding on this gentle world of hers that I was in no way a part of. And it now seemed unlikely that I would get an invitation. I sighed, looking at my goddess, wanting to touch her, needing to touch her, and not being allowed. It shook me, how much the barrier now between us affected me. How much having her upset affected me. This was serious, I realized suddenly. This relationship was serious. Incredibly seriuos. It was much too serious for me at the moment. I wasn't sure I was ready for it or that I could handle everything that went along with it. Like this, for instance. I had trouble breathing. I needed some space. I needed to fucking breath.

"I just wanted to apologize," I told her, voice gruff. "I'll get my stuff and go bunk with Tank." I saw her shut her eyes as I got up and left, closing the door behind me. Now she could relax. And I could maybe start to breath again. I carefully stripped down to my boxers, putting my clothes in the hamper before heading to the other bedroom. Then I heard it. She was crying. And my need for air, for space, just sort of dissipated. I'd made her cry. My beautiful, fun, happy Stephanie was crying. Because of me.

I knocked on the bathroom door again, but she either didn't hear me or she was ignoring me, so I opened it quietly. She was still in the bathtub, one arm over her eyes, weeping softly.

"Get out," she told me without ever moving her arm. "Get the fuck out, Ranger." I thought about doing what she asked for about a nanosecond before dismissing it.

"Steph," I tried.

"Get out, Ranger," she said with a malevolent bent to her voice. "Leave me alone."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." That got a reaction. She laughed, and it was a bitter thing. She took her arm off her eyes and looked straight at me.

"You didn't mean to hurt me. Of course not," she said as she stood up, her voice gradually getting louder until she was yelling. "Of course you didn't mean to hurt me when, after I've committed the hideous crimes of trying to help you, trying to show you that I care, trying to take care of you as well as you've taken care of me, all you do is get pissy. Of course you didn't mean to hurt me when, instead of giving, just a little, and letting me help you, you'd rather push yourself too far too fast and reinjure yourself, because I'm irritating you and somehow encroaching on your manhood or infringing on your space. And you sure as hell didn't mean to hurt me when you got so aggravated, you yell at me and dump me. But no, you didn't mean to fucking hurt me!"

I just stared at her, mouth open. Dump her? She thought I was dumping her?

"Get out, Ranger!" she screamed. "Get out!" Then she started throwing things at me. Shampoo, conditioner, lit candles, anything she could get her hands on. I managed to duck most of it. The mirror shattered and seconds later, Tank came running in. She was still screaming at me to get out and Tank was wide-eyed at the destruction. And possibly the fact that Steph was naked and dripping bubbles and water. It was really a toss up.

Then she ran out of things to throw and promptly collapsed on the floor, sobbing like her heart was breaking.

"Get out, get out, get out," she moaned. Tank and I looked at each other helplessly.

"Go," I told him. He nodded rapidly, eyes still big as eggs, and bolted. I looked around her at the glass from the broken mirror and walked out to get some shoes and towels. When I came back, she was crying so hard I thought she was going to make herself sick. I laid the towels on top of the glass shards and wrapped one around her, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. My body protested at the strain, and she didn't help me or make it easier to lift or carry her, but I managed. I checked her over top to bottom to see if she'd been cut anywhere, but she seemed to be alright. Thank god.

She'd quieted down as I looked her over. I went to get a cool washcloth for her, bringing it back and giving it to her. Her face was in her hands, but she took it from me and held it over her eyes. I moved the wet towel away from her, thinking it must be uncomfortable to sit there with it. Then I wrapped her up in the comforter and sat against the headbord, holding her close to me in my lap.

"Why are you doing this," she finally asked. "You're dumping me, getting rid of me. Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not," I told her. "I'm not dumping you, or getting rid of you." I wasn't sure I could, anymore. I didn't know if I could live without her close to me.

"You said you were getting your things. That you were bunking with Tank. I thought that meant you were moving out, and waiting for me to get the hell out of your house."

"No, babe," I told her. "I don't want you to leave."

"Then why were you going to sleep with Tank?" she asked. "Why were you leaving me?"

"I just… I, this is just going so fast, Steph. I needed a minute," I tried to explain. "I never meant that I didn't want you anymore. This whole, us, it's just so…" I couldn't find the words, and she waited for me to finish. Then she nodded, understanding.

"I know," she said. "Would it help if I told you I was scared, too?"

"Yeah," I said, and it did.


	9. Chapter 9

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Nine**

Another day of rest and Tank and I were back at full steam.  Well, I was.  Tank seemed to be lagging, but I might have been imagining it. 

That night at hand-to-hand, I decided to do something a little differently.  This was one area that I'd basically told Tank to back off.  He could watch, he could help me demonstrate, but I was the only one who taught or practiced with Steph.  But she was getting pretty damn good and I thought it would do her good to spar with somebody else for a while.  The exercise turned out to be more educational for Tank than for Stephanie. 

Tank's typically too big to practice on.  After all, it's not like there are many people she's going to encounter that have wrists the size of her thighs.  I had thought it would be telling to see how well she did when faced with an opponent that had her by almost three hundred pounds.  Yes, Tank's that big. 

So that night when we were down at the mat, I'd started them sparring.  I wanted to see how long she would last. 

"Steph, Tank," I'd said.  "Pair up."  Steph looked at me with her head cocked, and Tank raised an eyebrow. 

"You want that I should show her something?" Tank asked.

"No, I want that you should spar," I told them.  "No holds barred, this is real life, fight like it.  Steph, try to last."  She shrugged; Tank just sort of chuckled. 

I'd thought she'd last maybe four minutes.  Seven tops.  She made it four and I was pleased.  She made it seven and I was pleasantly surprised.  She made it ten and I was amazed.  I called it at fifteen and didn't have words to describe it.  I let them sit and rest for a few minutes. 

I wasn't sure why I was so surprised.  After all, I had been the one training her and I am the best.  And I'd been throwing her around the mat for four months now.  And she's fast, fast enough that she was able to stay away from me most of the time now.  And I'm faster than Tank.  So I wasn't sure why I was so surprised. 

I thought another round would be good.  After all, she'd managed to last the fifteen minutes in the ring, but it had just been defensive.  She'd managed to dodge, block, get out of his way, and stay a bounce ahead of him.  But she hadn't landed a hit on him.

"Again," I ordered and up they got.  "Steph, not so passive.  Go."

Another fifteen minutes and they were both breathing hard.  But Tank was starting to slow down, just a little.  Barely noticeable unless you were really looking.  I was.  I wondered if he'd been slacking off in his training a little while here on holiday.  In our business, slowing down like Tank was doing was unacceptable, especially when it was that early on in a match.   I made a mental note to call him in for an eval when we got back to Trenton.  Steph had been able to get in a few good hits.  Nothing disabling, but good scores.  I took another good look at Tank and his movements, his footwork was slowing a little more.  I wondered if he'd been slacking off for longer than this little holiday of his.  I called it and let them rest another few minutes. 

"I just can't grab hold of her," Tank said when he caught his breath.  "She's so fucking tiny she just kind of slips through your fucking fingers, you know what I mean?"  I made some sort of noncommittal noise. 

"You're not used to dealing with people as small as I am," Steph said from her place on the floor, leaning back against the wall.  "And I'm very used to dealing with somebody a lot bigger than I am.  I learned how to do this stuff practicing on Ranger and he's, like, three times bigger than me."

I shrugged.  It was true.  I was quite a bit bigger than Steph. 

"Not many people my size, Steph," Tank countered.  "I'm very used to dealing with small people."  I shrugged again.  This was also true.  Tank was many times larger than the general populace.

"If you say so," Stephanie said.  Somehow, I didn't think she meant it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tank asked.

"Nothing," she said with a shrug.

"You think I'm not used to dealing with small people?" Tank pushed.

"I think since you've gotten here, the only person you've sparred with has been Ranger.  I think, even when you're not here, you practice exclusively with men who are as large if not larger than Ranger.  And Ranger is not by any means small.  In fact, he's quite a bit larger than the average man.  Most aren't so…muscly."  Muscly?  She had to work on her vocabulary.  The word was ripped.

"I think that you probably don't even have to work very hard when you pick up skips that are smaller than Ranger," she said.  "Probably you just look mean at them and they climb into the cuffs on their own.  And when you do have to deal with somebody who's Ranger's size, you're fine because that's the size person you practice with."  Despite the fact that I was getting a little weirded out by how often Steph was referencing my size, she had some good points.  But she still wasn't done.

"I'm by no means considered tiny when I'm lumped in with the rest of the masses, but I am smaller than the average man who, we've already established, is quite a bit smaller than Ranger who is smaller than you.  So while you may be used to dealing with people who haven't quite reached your mass, you are in no way used to dealing with small people.  Especially not small people who've had some of the same training you've had and won't back down because you look mean."

She really did have some very good points.  The guys, Tank and I included, sparred with each other probably 95 of the time.  The rest of it was with other guys like us.  We typically didn't have a problem when dealing with the general population who, as Steph had so eloquently pointed out, were not "our size."  But the general populace didn't have our training and skills, and it was the lot of us against one of them.  Occasionally, two of them.  Huh.  When we got back, I'd have to have the guys start training with Steph once a week.  It would be good for all of them.  I almost panicked again.  I was already planning for when we got back to Trenton.  I tried to calm down.  I took deep breaths.  After all, it wasn't like Steph was going to just leave me, or leave the city.  She seemed happy with both, and I was happy with both.  So it was just long term planning.  For the benefit of my business.  See, I told my heart rate as it started to get back to a normal pattern, nothing to worry about.  Just business. 

"Again," I told them both.  They groaned, but got up.

"Aggressive, Stephanie," I ordered her.  "Stop dancing around.  Ready?  Go."

She really took the aggressive thing to heart this time.  Before, she'd been extremely careful and deliberate, letting Tank do a lot of the work while she just danced out of his reach.  Tank must have been expecting her to continue the shadow boxing, dodging games she'd engaged in before.  Instead, she went straight for the throat.  Figuratively speaking, of course.  I wasn't completely sure she could reach his neck with any sort of leverage.  Literally, she knocked his head back, kicked him in his groin, and swept his feet out from under him. 

"Is that aggressive enough for you?" she asked.  I just blinked.  Tank was definitely getting a hard-core evaluation when we got back.

"Shit, babe, it shouldn't have been so easy."  She rolled her eyes.

"Well, you guys always train with guys, right?  So, guys typically don't think to send another guy's balls into orbit.  Gives a woman a slight advantage."  She turned to Tank. 

"You ok, big guy?" she asked, just as he turned to his side and started retching.  Lovely. 

"How do you know that?" I asked.  She rolled her eyes.  Again.  I thought I might be developing a complex.

"I'm from the Burg, Ranger," she said as though that explained everything.  It probably would have, had I known what she was talking about.  As it was, I wasn't sure I wanted to.  She continued anyway.

"We're taught from a very young age how to…discourage boys who are intent on…deflowering us," she said with a smile.

"Oh really?" I asked.  "And how young is that?"

"My mom started my training at the tender age of six," she said.  "After an incident with a train."  This time, I was sure I didn't want to know.  But I made a note to call the nanny and have them start sending Maria to self-defense class.  I'd thought eight was too young, but if there could be a train incident before the age of seven, much less a train incident I didn't understand, I wanted her ready.  Now.

"He's slacking, Ranger," she said softly, coming much closer to me and unconsciously mimicking my earlier thoughts.  "He's better than I am, or he should be.  He's been doing this for years.  I shouldn't have been able to do that.  Any of that.  You need to deal with him."

"Telling me how to run my business now, babe?" I asked with an edge to my voice.  I don't like being told what to do.  Especially when they're right.

"No," she shook her head.  "But when we get back to Trenton, I don't want to have to worry about you getting hurt because you trusted Tank to get your back." 

After that, over the next few days, I noticed Steph needling Tank, pushing him, getting him to train more and harder.  And all so subtly that Tank didn't even know she was doing it. I only really knew because of what she'd said to me, about the worrying.  And, of course, because she asked me how much weight he should be lifting.  Really, it was amazing.  But she would say things to him that implied "out do me, prove you can."  She dared him to set the bar. 

"Can't handle five more pounds?" she would ask.  Sometimes, the things she said?  They weren't even implied. 

Handling Tank is not the easiest thing in the world.  In fact, it was pretty challenging.  I was very, very impressed.  Tank came to me a few days after their sparring to ask about it.  He'd finally become suspicious. 

"Is Steph driving me?" he asked. 

"Does she need to be?" I asked him back.  I was pleased with both of their progress, so I wasn't going to upset the apple cart.

"Shit," he muttered.  Which gave me all the answer I needed.  "Maybe I've been…relaxing a bit since you left with her."

"Maybe?" I pushed, raising an eyebrow at him.  "Steph took you down in less than a minute, man.  Even she knew she shouldn't have been able to do that."

"Shit," he muttered again, moving into the kitchen.  I followed.

"Fuck!" he roared.  Steph ran out of our bedroom to see what was wrong.  Tank's back was to her, and he was staring into space.  Steph took one look at the situation and turned to me to see what I wanted from her.  I shook my head slightly and she quickly and quietly slipped back to our bedroom.  After giving me a look that clearly said take care of this.  God, she was great.  Most women would have immediately and vocally tried to find out what was wrong.  But Steph took in the situation and trusted me to know what was best.  At least, in this situation.  I had a feeling that if it hadn't been Tank, Steph would have reacted a bit differently.  I've been noticing that she's a bit protective of me, and doesn't like it when even Tank yells at me.  I smiled slightly.  God, I really loved her sometimes.

"God dammit!" Tank yelled.  It brought me quickly back to the situation at hand. 

"So basically, you've been slacking off," I said.

"She's pregnant," he said, dropping to the ground, knees up with his arms resting over them. 

"Who," I asked, very, very carefully.  If Steph had been talking to him… or, oh.  Oh, god, what if they'd been doing more than talking…and now she's pregnant.

"Jennifer," he said with an explosive breath.  "Jen."  I took a second to process my relief.  Both at Steph not choosing Tank over me and at my trek into fatherhood being averted.  Maria was quite enough, especially since I wasn't really her father. 

"Jen's a girl back home?" I clarified.  He nodded, dropping his head to his arms.  I sat next to him, leaning back against the cabinets.

"Is it yours?" I asked gently.

"She didn't know," he yelled.  "She didn't fucking know.  I thought she could be the one, and she was screwing around behind my back.  I thought she might be it, you know?" I nodded, though he couldn't see me with his head in his hands.

"Shit," I agreed.  "You wanna, you know, go get drunk or something?"

"The hole in the wall in that place near the thing?" he asked.

"Sure," I shrugged.  It was as good a place as any.  "Grab a coat.  I'll meet you at the car."

I got up and left him to it.  Then I went to find Steph.  She was laying on our bed, spread out on her back, taking up almost the entire thing.  She was kind of like a cat that way, somehow taking up more space than should be physically possible.  She opened her eyes and looked at me, and I couldn't help but sit beside her and pet her stomach.  Sure enough, she purred. 

"Is everything ok?" she asked.  I sighed and shook my head. 

"What?" she asked.

"Tank's girlfriend is pregnant and she doesn't know if Tank is the father."  Her eyes snapped open again. 

"And so Tank ran away to hide here?" she snorted.  I was a little surprised at her reaction.

"That means she was cheating on him, babe," I said.

"Maybe," she agreed.  "Maybe not.  Maybe he pissed her off, and she wasn't able to get it out clearly.  Maybe she's a few months pregnant and just now realized it, and was pregnant before they ever became exclusive.  Maybe he never discussed with her the parameters of their relationship and she thought they were free to see other people."  With the look she was giving me as she said that last one, I wondered if she was referring to me as much as she was to Tank.  I bent and kissed her neck, her ear, her forehead, before touching my lips to hers.

"Either way, I'm going and getting him drunk."

"Sure," she said.  "Have fun.  Promise you'll call me to come pick you up when you want to come home."

"Babe, we'll be fine," I protested.

"Ranger," she warned in a tone that I somehow knew would brook no arguments.

"Sure," I acquiesced.

"Promise," she demanded.

"Promise."

"Good," she smiled.  "And, by the way, if I find you had women draping over you all night long, I won't be held liable for my actions."  I kissed her again, this time hard and demanding.

"You're the only woman I want draped all over me, babe," I told her, voice rough.  Then I left. 


	10. Chapter 10

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Ten**

We were well on our way to being completely wasted.  I patted Tank on the back to get his attention and he fell completely out of his chair.  Ok, so maybe we were already trashed.  I tried to help him up, but wound up falling down next to him.  And then it seemed like too much trouble to get up, so we both lay there on our backs on the floor of the bar. 

"Tank?" I called.  No response.  This time, I kicked him to get his attention.  After all, we were already on the floor.  It wasn't like we could fall any farther.

"Ungh," he grunted.

"Women want parameters," I told him, sure of the sageness of my statement, even though I'd slaughtered the pronunciation of at least two of the three words.

"What?" Tank asked.

"Parameters," I repeated, my pronunciation slightly truer.  "Women want them."  I paused to stop the ceiling from spinning before continuing my lecture.

"Did you set parameters for Jessica?" I asked.

"Jennifer," he corrected as the bartender came to stand over us.

"Right.  Jessica.  Did you set parameters for her?"

"Y'all got somebody I can call to getch'all?" he asked.

"Yep," I answered happily.  "My babe'll come."

"Your babe?" he asked skeptically.

"Yep.  My babe.  Who wants parameters.  She said she'd come," I told him as I set about a scientific study of the ceiling.  It was pretty. 

"You gotta number?" he asked.

"How bout twelve?" I asked.  It sounded like a good number to me.  Maybe Tank's girlfriend would have twelve-tuplets.  Man, I was way beyond wasted.  The bartender actually laughed.  Though I wasn't sure whether that was actually a good sign.

"You gotta cell phone?" he asked.

"Yes!" I exclaimed proudly, pulling it out. 

"Why don't you call your babe," he suggested.

"Yes!"  What a good idea.  I should talk to my babe.  "But I'm not gonna talk to her about parameters yet," I warned everybody.

"Yo," she answered, voice husky.  Very sexy.

"Babe!" I exclaimed happily. 

"Ranger?" she asked.

"Babe!" I repeated.  It was the only word I could think of.

"You want me to come for you boys now?"

"No!" I exclaimed.  "You're supposed to come only for me.  And I'm supposed to be there when you do.  So no!"  She laughed.  I was pretty sure that wasn't a good sign.

"How drunk are you?" she asked.

"I'm way past drunk, babe," I confessed.  "But I don't wanna talk about parameters, so no coming for anyone else 'til we talk, kay?"  The bartender was still laughing and shaking his head.  I was pretty sure Steph was, too. 

"I don't think that'll be a problem, Ranger," she said with a chuckle.  "Do you want me to get you guys now?"

"Oh," I considered.  "Yeah.  Sure."

"I need to know where you are, Ranger," she prodded. 

"Bar," I supplied. 

"What's the name of the bar?"

"Uh…" I stalled.  "Twelve?"

"Is there a bar tender?" she asked. 

"Yes!" I said, pleased to have the right answer for her.

"Can I talk to him?"

"No!" I told her.

"Ranger."

"Yeah," I sighed.  "I guess."

I held the phone above my head.

"Barkeep!" I yelled.  "My babe wants-a talk to you."

He took the phone and there was a bit of discussion that I couldn't make out, so I spent the time contemplating the bottom of the bar stools.

"Tank," I said.  "You should talk to Steph.  Steph is wise in the ways of women."

"Steph is a woman," he grunted.

"Exactly," I said, pleased he understood.  The cell phone got dropped back on my chest and I let out an oof.  Then Tank and I lay there, quietly, on the floor of the bar, waiting for Steph to pick us up.  Then I heard her voice.  Her very amused voice.

"I'm here for the two muscle bound morons that are drunk off their asses," I heard only god knows how much later.  "Do you know where they are?"

"Babe!" I yelled from my position on the floor.

"Never mind.  I think I've found them."

"Steph!" I yelled again.  I couldn't see her, and I wanted her to come over so I could.

"Really," she asked.  "How much have you had to drink?"

"We lost count after he gave us a third bottle," Tank told her.  Tattletale.  She moved out of my sight then and I called for her.

"Babe!  Babe!  Babe!"

"Ranger, shut up."  Tank sounded angry.

"Steph," I whined to her.  "I can't see you."  She stepped back into my view and I quieted.  The bartender came over and gave her something.  Looked like paper.  He'd better not be giving her his number.  I tried to glare, but it made me queasy so I stopped.

"Holy shit!" I heard Steph exclaim.  Guess it wasn't his number. 

"Ranger, where's your wallet?" she asked.

"My pocket?" I guessed. 

"Give it to me."

"Come and get it," I told her. 

"Ranger, stand up."

"No."

"Ranger, stand up.  Now." 

"Oh, ok.  What was the question again?"

"Stand up, Ranger."

"Sure."  I stood up and promptly stumbled into her.  Luckily, she was prepared for this and caught me with her arms around my waist.  Then they moved lower.

"Babe," I admonished.  "In public?"  She rolled her eyes and leaned me against the bar.  And she had something in her hands that looked suspiciously like my wallet.  The little vixen.  I watched her empty it and hand over all the money to the bartender.  He counted it, nodded at us and smiled to her.  I wondered how much of a tip she'd given him to have him smiling at her like that.  Of course, I'd pay her to be allowed to smile at her.  Good thing no one knew that.  'Specially her.  Or Tank.  He'd never let me live it down.  He'd say I was a sap.  Bastard. 

"Let's get you in the car, big boy," she said.  I made googly eyes at her, I was sure I did.  Tank was right.  I was a sap.  Bastard.

"Big boy?" I wondered aloud.  "You mean me, right?"  She responded by pulling me off the bar and heading to the door.  Luckily, she let me lean on her or I don't think I would have made it.  We got to the car and she put me in.  I watched her go back for Tank, thinking happy thoughts.  Then I leaned my head against the window and decided that shutting my eyes sounded like a Very Good Idea.  The next thing I knew it was morning. 

"Ungh," I groaned. 

"You awake?" Steph asked.  Loudly.  My head was pounding.  She pulled open the drapes and the light immediately blinded me. 

"Ahrgh," I pulled the pillow over my head.  Apparently, it was already after noon.  I felt the bed dip and her hand trace a path up my chest to settle on my shoulder.

"Hangover?" she asked.  I grunted. 

"I'll get you water.  And Advil.  Anything else?"

"Uhgh."  I wasn't capable of full or even partial words yet.  Time was fluid.  It could have been ten hours or ten seconds that she was gone.  But she came back with the promised bounty.  A hand still shielding my eyes I gulped down the pills and the whole glass of water.  My mouth still felt like a cotton field even after the water. 

"More?" I begged, feeling human enough to move up to single syllables.  She pressed another glass into my hand immediately and I drained that, too.  Smart woman, bringing two glasses.  A saint, even. 

"Come on, babe," she said, pulling my hand in hopes that I would get off the bed.  "Let's get you into the shower."  The thought of showering with Steph was quite a pick me up, so I allowed myself to be dragged into the bathroom.  She stripped off my boxers and turned on the water as I leaned against the counter for support.  She stuck her hand under the spray and smiled at me.  My brain was still too fuzzy for the warning bells to be going off, so when she shoved me into the shower and shut the door, I was totally unprepared for the ice-cold spray that was pounding down on me. 

"God dammit!" I yelled.   "Shit!  Steph!"  I fumbled for the faucet, adjusting the temperature.  Steph was laughing at me.  My mind cleared real fast.  Ok, so her saint status was officially revoked.  I whipped open the door and, before she could react, pulled her in with me, clothes and all.

"Ranger!" she yelled. 

"That was very mean, Steph," I growled as I pinned her against the wall.  "Very, very mean."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" she purred.  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.  Before she'd come along, when I'd had this look on my face and that tone to my voice, purring was not a normal reaction.  People had tried to run away, they'd cried, they'd attempted to throw themselves on my mercy.  Nobody had ever, ever purred at me.  Then she reached her hand between us and lay it on me.  And my eyes rolled for a completely different reason.  So maybe purring wasn't such a bad thing after all.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You want to go check on Tank?" she asked me as we were getting dressed. 

"Why don't you go on ahead?" I asked. 

"No," she said emphatically.  "I'm never, never checking on him again.  Not ever.  I'd rather live without knowing he's alive than risk further psychological damage.  You never know what he might be doing in there."

"So you don't care that even now, he could be unconscious on the floor because he couldn't stand up straight so he fell down and hit his head?  He could be bleeding out in there as we speak," I teased.

"Of course I care," she shot back. "That's why I'm sending you."   And so I buttoned my pants and I went. 

"And besides," I heard her mutter.  "You've probably whacked off together, anyway."  I laughed as I barged into Tank's room without knocking. 

"Get up, you lazy bastard," I told him.  Ok, so I yelled.  But since it hurt my head as much as it probably did his, it didn't really count.  Tank just grunted, and I sat down on the bed with a hand to my forehead.

"Is it safe?" Steph called from the doorway.  I looked up to motion her in, and did a double take when I saw her hand covering her eyes.

"I don't want to see anymore of Tank's boy bits," she informed me rather primly.  Tank groaned again, and I just laughed.  No wonder they'd both been so embarrassed.  She came in when I gave her the all clear and gave Tank water and Advil.  Then he rolled over and yanked me down.

"Whoa," I yelled, grabbing hold of Steph as I fell into the bed.  Apparently, I was still hung over enough not to have very much balance.  Or maybe I was still drunk.  It was a distinct possibility. 

"Sleep," Tank grunted.  I was behind that sentiment one-hundred percent.  I pulled Steph to me so that she was tucked into my side.  I wanted to hold her as I slept.

"Sleep," I repeated.  She rolled her eyes, but settled her head onto my shoulder, laying between Tank and I. 

"Come on," she complained halfheartedly.  "It's after two…"

"No talking," Tank ordered.  Steph squirmed a bit. 

"No moving, either," he said as he threw an arm over both of us to reinforce the idea.  Steph stiffened immediately.  But as Tank started snoring lightly, Steph slowly relaxed, I soon followed Tank into the Dream World. 

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eventually, we were all awake and sober enough to cook.  And by that, I meant our stomachs could handle the thought and scent of food.  In fact, Tank and I suddenly became ravenous.  Around the dinner table, Steph brought up the subject of our drinking escapades.

"We need to go back and get the other car," she said.  "It's still at that bar."

I wondered what it would take to get her to do it for me.  Or maybe she could just arrange for it to be done.  Maybe I could bribe her and she could get the bartender to drive the other…

"Tank," she said.  "We'll be leaving in ten minutes."  Tank just blinked.

"What?" he asked.  She headed out of the kitchen to our room without stopping to answer him.

"What just happened?" he asked.  I had no idea, but suddenly my interest in going had increased exponentially.  Tank and I cleaned up from dinner and went out to wait for Steph by the car.  I had the keys in my hand when she came out.  She held her hand out for them and I just raised an eyebrow. 

"Keys, Ranger," she said. 

"I'll drive, babe," I told her.

"No, you won't."

"I won't?" I asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're not coming," she told me.

"I'm not?"  My eyebrows flew up at that.

"No," she said calmly.

"Why not?"

"You weren't invited."

"Tank invited me," I fibbed.

"No, he didn't."

"He didn't'?"  I asked.  How did she know that?  I looked to Tank and he looked just as confused.  Sometimes, I was pretty sure she really was psychic.

"No, Ranger," she repeated.  "He didn't."

"I'm not coming, am I?" I asked as I sighed.

"No."

"No," I echoed, handing over the keys.  Damn.

"Ranger can't go?" Tank asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're going."

Irrefutable logic, as far as it went.

"Why can't I not go?" he whined.

"Because Ranger's not going and we need two drivers."

"But why," Tank started.

"Tank," she warned. 

"I'm going, aren't I?" he sighed.

"Yes."

"And Ranger's staying here, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"And I should just get in the car now, shouldn't I?"

"Yes.  Yes you should."

He sighed again and got in.  Steph grabbed me and kissed me hard.  I was still reaching for her when I heard the door slam.  Damn, what a woman.  I watched them pull out, then headed back into the comm center and flipped the system for that car on.  It was SOP for bugs and trackers to be installed in all RangeMan vehicles.  I could, with my pass codes and a company computer, find any RangeMan vehicle at any time, anywhere, and hear everything that was going on inside.  It was quiet for quite a while, and I thought that maybe Tank had disabled it.  Then she started talking.

"So Ranger told me your girlfriend's pregnant."  Well, she just plunged right into the deep end of that pool.

"None of your fucking business," Tank growled. 

"Well, that's debatable, but I can see where you would think that.  But that's not the point.  I just wanted to say that I know the basics and that you can talk to me if you want.  There may be an explanation.  Maybe she cheated on you, maybe she didn't.  I don't know.  I do know that I've been in similar situations, and that I'm a very good listener.  So I'm here if you want me to be," she offered.

"Your girlfriend's gotten knocked up before, huh?"

"Don't be a smartass, Tank.  Not when I'm offering a sympathetic ear." 

"Yeah?  Well why do you think it's any of your business anyway," he demanded.  There was a pause before Steph answered.

"Because I like you, and I think we could become good friends.  Because you're hurting over all this, and I don't like it when friends are hurting.  Because you're important to Ranger, who's becoming a frighteningly central figure in my life, and he's hurting because you're hurting.  Because you're slacking off because of this, and you could get yourself or Ranger hurt.  Because, like I said, I've been in similar situations, and I think I could help."

"Seriously, what did you mean by similar situations?" he finally asked.  This time, she paused even longer.  I debated turning it off, but I wanted to know more about her.  I needed to know.  I realized I knew actually very little about her life before she'd decided to become a bounty hunter.  And I thought if I didn't know I might burn up from the curiosity.  So I kept it on.

"I got married straight out of college," she started.  "I got divorced a year later when I found him on the kitchen table with another woman."

"Shit," Tank muttered.  I concurred.

"Yeah, basically.  But I've also been the one left pregnant and alone because the guy wouldn't believe me.  And of the two, that's definitely worse."

"Holy shit," I said, though nobody was around to hear me.  I just couldn't wrap by head around it.  Stephanie had been pregnant?  My Stephanie?  So did she have a kid somewhere?  How could some man leave her like that?

"So what happened to the kid?" Tank asked.

The silence was even longer this time.

"I…there was…" she said, voice tight.  "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's fair," Tank said.  "I've never been in that particular situation, but I'm a very good listener.  So I'm here if you want me to be."

"Thanks, Tank.  That's very kind of you," she said.  "But back to you.  You want to talk about it?"

And I decided that I really shouldn't be listening to their private conversation.  That there was a reason Steph hadn't wanted me along for the ride, there was a reason she didn't want me in on the conversation.  So I came to the belated conclusion that I should butt out.  I shut down the equipment and went down to the workout room.  And waited for them to come back.  And tried not to think about what I'd heard.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next morning, Tank came out of his bedroom fully dressed and carrying a duffle bag. 

"I'm heading out," he said to me as he dropped the duffle.

"You've only been here maybe a month," I said.  "You're leaving already?"

"Need to take care of some things," he said.  "Tie up some loose ends.  Good luck with Steph.  She's a spitfire."

"Don't I know it," I said with the smile I got whenever I thought about her.

He clasped my arm and I his, and we parted ways again.  I didn't care what kind of touchy-feely, emotional crap Tank was going through that might or might not have caused him to slack off.  When I got back to Trenton, I was still going to give him a major eval.

"Tank left," I told Steph as she walked out of our bedroom a few minutes later. 

"Yeah," she said.

"You knew?"  She knew before I did?  She'd known his plans and hadn't told me? 

"He came and said goodbye while you were in the kitchen."  He'd said goodbye to her.  In my bedroom.  I clamped down on my internal jealous ravings.

"Well, alright," I said, not quite yet able to control the jealousy.  I did, however, have a pretty damn good way to get over it, though.

"You know what?" I asked.  "It just so happens that today's a national holiday.  Wasn't that good timing?"


	11. Chapter 11

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Eleven**

I woke up the next morning wrapped around her.  I pulled her closer to me as I breathed in the scent that was uniquely hers before placing gentle kisses down her neck.  Slipping down, I trailed kisses down her back and turned her so she was under me. 

"Mmm," she moaned. "Ranger." 

Quite a bit later we were again laying quietly in bad and I was back to being wrapped around her.  It was one of my favorite things.  I think I could do it all day.  Except I would probably get ideas which would lead to another one of my favorite things.  And we'd have to create another national holiday.

"Hey Steph?" I asked.  "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," she agreed, still running her fingers over the back of my neck and never opening her eyes.

"Shouldn't we, you know, sit up or something?" I asked.  I was a little nervous.  I really didn't want to talk about this, but now that Tank was gone, I thought it might be safe to bring it up.  Her eyes opened and she looked at me.

"Does lying down for some reason incapacitate your mouth?  Because I've seen no evidence of it thus far.  In fact, just a few minutes ago, I was sure your that mouth only got more talented the longer we stayed in bed."  She had a good point.  I couldn't find any fault to her logic. 

"Well, ok," I said.  "Ok, so.  Yeah."  Great start, Ranger, I thought to myself.  Eloquent, really. 

"Ok," I started again.  "I wanted to ask about, you know, the, when Tank and I were wrestling, and we were arguing…"

"Yeah?" Steph prompted when I stopped.

"I said some things that might have, you know, indicated that I might have been aware of a situation in which you and Tank were…"  I couldn't put a word to it.

"Disagreeing?" she provided. 

"Uh, yes," I nodded.  "Disagreeing."

"And?" she asked.

"Well, I wondered, just, how you felt about me being aware of said situation."

"You've been aware of said situation since its occurrence, Ranger.  And you're just now asking me how I feel about it?"

"How do you know that I've known about it since…"

"Ranger," she warned.  "Don't prevaricate.  You were there.  You were watching the whole thing play out."

"I was…" I trailed off.  "How did you know that?  Did you see me?  What?"

"Ranger," she said in a voice that was only slightly patronizing.  "I always know when you're around.  I always know when you're watching me, I can feel your eyes on me.  There's this tension inside of me whenever you come near me that lets me know you're close."

"So you knew I was there while it was happening?" I asked, just to be sure.

"Of course."  Of course.  Tank had called me smoke; Steph said of course. 

"And you're not upset that I, you know, watched?"

"Nah," she said chuckling.  "Though I never realized you were such a voyeur." 

"You aren't upset that I didn't, you know, step in or something?" I asked.  She blinked at me.

"Step in?" she asked in a dangerously quiet tone of voice.  "Are you implying that I would need you to step in for me?  That I'm unable to take care of myself?"

"No," I backpedaled quickly.  Her anger was something both terrifying and awesome.  I was in no hurry for her to show it to me again.

"No I was not.  I in no way think that you are unable to take care of yourself.  You are the epitome of self-sufficiency.  And beauty.  And grace.  And you…" I trailed off as she started laughing.

"It was just that, you know, he was saying these things," I said.

"I know.  I was there."

"And you knew I was there," I clarified.

"Of course I knew," she stated. 

"So I guess that rules out sneaking up on you?" I teased to keep her off the scent that this whole thing kind of creeped me out.  She could feel me when I was near her?  How weird was that. 

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Stephanie was doing remarkably well on all fronts.  I thought it was time for a trial-by-fire, of sorts.

"I think the time has come to try you out.  We'll test you in public, so to speak, and see how you do," I told her one evening over dinner. 

I noticed the miniscule tightening of her shoulders, but that was the only physical reaction she had. 

"Oh?" she asked.  "And how will you do that?"

"The General has a training camp for a week every summer.  It's held three months before the Best Ranger Competition.  I can get you in.  He always asks me to come to these things.  I always say no, so if I say yes, he'll be willing to let you come."

I got up from the table and cleared my dishes.

"Juice?" I called from the kitchen.

"No, thanks," she said quickly as she cleared her own dishes. 

"No?" I asked to make sure I'd heard her correctly.  Stephanie was always thirsty.  She was like a fish. 

"No, thanks," she repeated.  "You're not planning on drugging me again, are you?"  I stood there like a fish myself for a minute before chuckling, having realized why she'd said no.

"No, babe," I smiled. "Don't worry."

"I won't," she replied.  "I'll be getting my own juice."

I chuckled again.

"We're going out today," I told her.  She shrugged.  "We need to get you outfitted."

"Outfitted?" she asked.  "What do you mean?"

"You're going there as mine," I explained.  "I have to make sure you're dressed appropriately."

"Are you implying that I've been clothed inappropriately?" she asked, obviously affronted.  I attempted to calm her down.

"No, no, for here, you were fine," I said.  "For the camp, not so much."  I hadn't realized this would turn into such an issue, though I supposed that I should have. 

"What's wrong with me?" she asked.

"You need, you know, stuff," I tried.  "It's stuff!  I'm buying it for you.  It's new.  It's shopping.  You're a woman, shouldn't you be happy about these facts?"  I knew I shouldn't have said that the second it came out of my mouth.  She sucked in a breath and let it go slowly.

"Yes," she said.  "I am a woman.  That doesn't mean that when you show me something pretty or shiny and offer to buy it for me, I start to fawn."  She looked at me for another minute before turning and heading to the bedroom.  "Be ready to leave in an hour," she said as she slammed the door behind her.

"An hour?" I asked the empty room. 

"I'm ready now," she said, and I looked up at the clicking I heard against the floor.  Heels.  She was wearing high heels.  And a skirt.  And a really, really tight little sweater.  And she was holding a pocket book.  And she was wearing makeup, with her hair in soft, curly things.  And she had what looked like a string of pearls around her neck, and drops of them in her ears. 

"Babe?" I asked, unsure of what to say.  I hadn't even known she'd had that sort of thing with her.

"I'm ready, darling," she said sweetly.  "I hope you're plastic is sturdy, I'm so looking forward to you buying me pretty, girly things."

I knew I was screwed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was the best make-up sex I'd ever had.  After sufficient groveling, she'd forgiven me.  And she hadn't even made me buy her anything, either.  I'd just had to sit through five hours of her trying on different things that I didn't even get to see her model while holding her purse and being dragged through multiple department stores.

Luckily, I'd managed to get her the things we'd originally set out for somewhere in the middle of it all.

The next morning, I called the General to ensure we could get in.

"I don't like the sound of this," he said.  "Glad to have you, of course, but I won't have some little hussy you're screwing embarrass me, or you."

"She won't," I told him confidently.  "And she's not."

"Oh?" he said, chuckling.  "Getting defensive, are we?  Something different about this little girl?"

"None of your concern.  Do you want me there or not?"

"Of course," he said.

"Then you have to take her, too."

"Done," he said.  "Make sure she's properly dressed."

"Of course," I agreed.

We spent the next week and a half going over all of the parts of her 'outfit,' and making sure she knew how to use them all.  The clothing itself was just black pants and a t-shirt.  It was what went over it, though, that made the outfit.  Numerous holsters and pockets filled with guns and supplies that she had to be able to draw and use at a moments notice.  None of the weapons were new to her, as I'd trained her well with all of them.  It was just getting used to the holster system that took some getting used to.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

After a five hour drive to just outside Atlanta, we were both a little cranky.  Especially since I hadn't let her pack anything except some spare shirts and panties and her toiletries.  Which meant toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant.  She'd been pissed, to say the least, complaining that her hair was in dire need of products, unless I wanted her to turn everybody to stone with just a look.  She hadn't spoken to me for the first three hours of the trip.

When we got there, the General himself met us.

"Sir," I said shaking his hand.  Stephanie just stood behind me with her small duffle bag on her shoulder, unsure of what to do.

"Good to have you here," he said before turning his attention to her.  "And you must be Stephanie."

"Nice to meet you," she said.  He ignored the hand she'd put out to shake and eyed her critically before turning back to me.

"She isn't even dressed," he said, disgusted.  "Does she know what she's in for?"  I nodded. 

"Nobody is going to go easy on her," he warned.  "I haven't told anybody about her…special circumstances, what with her not really being a Ranger trainee.  Either way, though, they'll probably be extra hard on her.  Crying is strictly not allowed.  I won't have her embarrassing me.  Get her to the bunks."

"But," I protested.  "I thought…"

"I said," the General repeated.  "Get her to the bunks."  Then he walked away.

"Sorry, babe," I said to her.  "I didn't realize you'd have to bunk with the men."

She blinked for a minute, before simply nodding. 

"Give me the stuff," she said, and I opened the trunk so she could start to put it all on.  "I'll be fine.  I won't embarrass you.  Or the General."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Some guy was hitting on her.  I wasn't too surprised, as I agreed with them that she was hot.  But I didn't appreciate it.  I liked it even less that there was nothing I could do about it.  One of the General's little rules, that nobody could know she was my student.  Supposedly, it was so none of them would treat her any differently.  It didn't make me want to smash the guy's face in any less. 

Nevertheless, I did nothing more than watch as she verbally cut his legs out from under him as they stood in line in the mess.  Then she turned and looked straight at me, rolling her eyes before grabbing some Jell-O.  It had been like this for the past three days.  I knew, because I'd been watching.  Nobody else knew I'd been hiding in the shadows and keeping an eye on her.  And the men around her.  But she'd look up sometimes, and stare right at me.  Her accuracy was unnerving.

At first, none of the guys had taken her seriously.  Then she'd kicked their asses in multiple events.  After that, most of them had stopped giving her a hard time and had just focused on trying to get into her pants.  Some, though, were still quite persistent in trying to belittle her and outdo her.  Sometimes they succeeded.  Most times, she just kicked their asses again.  I was so proud of my little rangerette.

I kept my eyes on her as she moved through the line.  Then one of the guys who was still upset at her beating him one too many times grabbed her ass.  I watched her freeze, then turn to look the perpetrator in the eye.  I couldn't hear what she said, and her face was turned away from me so I couldn't read her lips, but everybody within hearing distance suddenly froze as well.  The next thing I knew, the man was on the ground with a plate full of Jell-O on his face.  I smiled and went back to my food.

"What the hell was that?" the General asked me before turning to one of the other men at the table.  "Jimmy, get her over here."  I gripped the fork in my hand hard enough to bend it, then carefully reigned myself in and set it down as she calmly followed the man over.  The entire hall had gone silent.

"Yes?" she asked. 

"We don't allow food fights here, Plum," he growled at her.  "I expect much more control out of those I let train here."

"You should tell that to Freddie," she replied.  Even I was surprised at her response.  The General is not one to be crossed, or spoken back to.

"Excuse me," he said, voice dangerously low.

"I said, that if you pride yourself on the control of those here, then you should make sure that they can keep their hands to themselves," she said saucily. 

"I'm sure they could keep their hands to themselves, as you say, if you didn't flaunt yourself around them," he growled.

"Flaunt?" she laughed.  "You really are just a chauvinistic bastard, aren't you, General?  I haven't flaunted anything.  I'm wearing the same thing as everyone else here.  You're just like Freddie, you know?  Can't stand the fact that it's a girl who beat your toy soldiers."

"That's enough," I finally intervened, well aware of the fact that I was way too late.  Then, to everyone's surprise, the General started chuckling.

"Have a seat, Ms. Plum," he said.  "I believe I do like you, after all.  Jimmy, go get her a new tray."

She smiled as she took her seat across from me, and I watched, just as amazed as the rest of the men in the mess hall, as they began to have a nice, friendly discussion on their preferred hand guns.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I'm not going to tell you that you should have kept it together in front of the General," I told her as I caught her alone that evening.  "But you've ruined your cover.  Now everybody knows you're not a Ranger candidate."

She laughed.

"Ranger, they've known since about ten minutes after I got here," she said. 

"What did you do?" I asked harshly.  She tensed.

"Give them some credit, Ranger.  They're not stupid.  I didn't have to do anything," she said, pushing my hand out of her way and walking down the hall.  I grabbed her and pulled her back.

"No, really," I asked.  "What did you do?  It's my rep on the line here, Babe."  She scowled at me, and I knew that when we were back home, she'd let me know in no uncertain terms just how much I'd screwed up on this trip.

"Everything ok, Steph?" a man behind us asked.  I saw her smile at him and nod.  Then she twisted her arm to break my grip and punched me right in the eye.

"Fine, thanks Freddie," she said.  "Almost time to turn in, right?"  I held my eye as I watched them walk over to the bunks.

Shit, I thought.  This was going to be all over the camp by morning.  Sure enough, as I walked away, I could hear Freddie's excited voice retelling it.

"You should have seen it, man," he said.  "It was awesome!  She just drew back her fist and wham!  Gave it to him, right in the eye.  _The_ Carlos Manoso.  And she just slugged him!"

"Probably I shouldn't have done that," I heard Stephanie's voice just before I opened the door to my cabin.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So are you really mad?" she asked less than five minutes into the car ride home. 

"For what?" I asked.  "Embarrassing me, or punching me."

"Ugh," she said.  "Never mind.  I no longer care."  I sighed. 

"Shit, come on, Babe," I said. 

"Don't talk to me," she responded tersely.  Needless to say, it was a very long trip back home. 

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

She stormed in the house as soon as I unlocked the door.  Then, just as she got to the bedroom door, she turned and looked at me. 

"If you're done being a jerk," she said.  "You can join me in the shower.  If not, I suggest you sleep on the couch."  Briefly, I contemplated my options.  Then I heard the water start to run, and had my shirt off before I'd gone two steps.

"Thank god," she whispered into my ear as she wrapped herself around me.  "I missed you."  I silently agreed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So seriously, are you still mad at me?" she asked as we lay in bed that night.  "I really didn't do anything.  Other than hit you, I mean.  And, I guess yelling at the General wasn't the best idea in the world, but it worked out alright.  But you both really kinda deserved it at the time.  So are you mad at me?"

I sighed.

"No, babe," I said.  "But I would like to know how they knew you weren't one of them."  She blinked.

"They were all from the same training camp," she said.  "It was pretty obvious."  I groaned and cursed the General silently. 

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Another month of training, and we were at the end of the time limit I'd imposed.  I wasn't sure how to broach the subject with her.  Luckily, I didn't have to.

"So six months is next week," she said that night at dinner.  I nodded.  "So?" she asked.

"So what?"

"So what?" she half shrieked.  "So, _so, _so what."

"Oh," I said.  So, _so_.  It was perfectly clear now. 

"So, you'll have a final exam, of sorts," I told her. 

"Of sorts?" she asked.  "What does that mean?"

"You'll find out when you take it," I said.  She rolled her eyes, muttering about my childish need for secrecy.  Not wanting to prove her childish theory, I valiantly refrained from taking the bait. 

Then I told her to pack because we'd be leaving the next day.  For good.  Her eyes bugged out in surprise, before getting a little sad.  Then she nodded, and went to pack. 

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was another long drive down to Miami, about nine hours.  Stephanie groused in the beginning about the road trip, but soon fell asleep.  No, I didn't drug her.  We could have flown, and it would have been faster.  But, truth of the matter was that I enjoy driving.  It's one of the small pleasures of life.  So when Stephanie asked if I wanted her to drive a few hours into it, I told her no.  She pouted for a minute, then called me a control freak before trying to go back to sleep.

"So where are we going," she asked a few minutes later, obviously having failed.

"Miami," I told her.

"Why?"

"Final exam."

"What's it gonna be?"

"Test."

She sighed and reclined the seat again.

"Ranger," she asked quietly.  I looked over and saw her watching the clouds out the window with an apprehensive face.  "What if I screw up?"

"You won't," I said confidently.

"But what if I do?" she persisted, sitting up to look at me.  She looked so nervous and worried.  I somehow managed to refrain from sighing.  I'd just spent the past six months personally training her, and she was having doubts.

"If you mess up, you mess up," I told her.  "Regardless of the outcome, you and I both know you have the skills you need to do your job.  So we'll just go back to Trenton, and you'll be a bounty hunter."  And I'll be out 500,000.00, I thought, but I couldn't tell her that part. 

"Then do I really even have to do this?" she asked. 

"Yes," was all I said.  She made it unfortunately clear that that wasn't enough of an answer.

"I suppose that you don't have to, if you really don't want to," I finally said.  "If you want, I'll turn around right now and head home to Trenton.  All this really is, is a chance for you to prove to yourself and everybody else that you have what it takes and more to do this job.  Now what's your decision."

It took her a minute to respond.

"I guess we're going to Miami," she said.  "Will we have time to visit a beach?"  I smiled. 

Not five minutes later, she was at it again.  Oh, no, she didn't say anything.  She just jiggled her foot and looked out the window forlornly.  And jiggled her foot.  And her leg.  I put my hand on it to stop her from moving it and driving me completely crazy.  I'm a fan of not getting into accidents; don't want anybody looking too closely at my vehicles, after all.  Could cause uncomfortable questions. 

Her hand covered mine and squeezed gently.  At least her foot had stopped.

"Would it make you feel better if I gave you some idea of what's going to happen?" I asked. 

"Of course!" she yelled, sitting back up and turning her full attention to me.  I nodded to acknowledge it and thought for a minute how to tell her.

"Security is a lucrative business these days," I said.  "I have offices in several cities, but I send all of my employees down to the Miami office for pre-hiring skills screening and periodic evaluations.  You've been entered into the system as a potential employee.  To pass, all you need to do is get hired."

"What!"

"Ok, well not hired," I said, mildly displeased at her adverse reaction to working for me.  "You just need scores high enough to be hired.  Scores any Ranger could get."  I hoped, better scores than the average Ranger got, or I'd be out a nice chunk of change.

"If it makes you feel better," I continued.  "Tank's been signed up for an eval.  Just kick his ass, and you'll do fine."


	12. Chapter 12

**My Fair Lady**

aly

**Twelve**

"So how's she doing?" Tank asked me when he found me.  She was almost through day one of the three day test.  Four others had been slotted for a go on this month's try-outs, and from what I understood, she was faring well.  Not outstanding, but she wasn't being laughed at, either.  All in all, she was fooling the proctors intobelieving she was really vying for a spot at the Trenton RangeMan.  An idea I thought sounded better every time it was brought up.  I had no doubts I could change her attitude about working for me once she showed these guys just what she could do.  But all I gave Tank was a noncommital grunt.

I was pleased with Stephanie's scores from the first day.  But the coming two days of testing were only going to get harder.  Day one was devoted to technical skills—marksmanship, physical fitness, endurance, computer skill, investigative techniques, etc.—all tested in a pseudo-academic environment with no outside stresses.  And Stephanie had done as well as I'd expected her to.  They were very well in-line with typical Ranger applicants.  Which made me very happy.

I managed to refuse Tank access to the scores on the grounds that, since he himself was under eval (a fact which he grumbled about more than a few times before he'd capitulated), he shouldn't be seeing what or how any of the other participants were doing.  Which also had the added benefit for me of keeping the man who was betting against me in the dark. 

Day two included the kill house as well as sparring and take down maneuvers.  I had no doubt Steph would do very well on the last two, but the first I was slightly concerned about.  I'd gone through a kill house with her a few times at the General's base, but that had been her only experience.  To complete this course, she'd have to run it three times: twice with a partner and once on her own.  She'd be up against RangeMan employees with paintpall guns playing attacker, and she would have to 'kill' all of the attackers and none of the 'civilians,' which were also being played by RangeMan employees.  And the attackers were vicious.  After all, they were testing people who might be expected to guard their backs one day.

My eyes were glued to the screen as they picked numbers.  Her first partner would be Tank.  They grinned, and there was only a brief discussion between them.  The starting bell rang and they _moved._  The evaluators watched with interest as the two of them demolished the team inside, both of them coming out clean without having hit any of the 'civilians' planted inside.  I grinned.  I should have known she'd pull it off.

A few other teams went before Steph was up again, this time with a former Marine who'd been out of the service for a half-dozen years installing residential security systems.  I could tell the guy was giving her a hard time from the get-go, probably telling her to stay out of his way and not do anything to affect his score.  He was motioning in a manner that clearly indicated he expected her to take maybe ten percent of the room.  Paintball gun in hand, Stephanie appeared to be holding her own, because the guy suddenly backed off, hands raised in a placating manner.  Steph nodded once, then took the left and went low. 

The bell rang and they were off.  I frowned as I watched them, both jerky and obviously ill-at-ease.  This time they didn't come out clean.  Steph had been hit by a blue splatter grazing her arm, and the Marine had a shot to the leg before they cleared the first room.  In the second, the Marine got a civilian.  And in the third, one of the hidden attackers got them both in the back when the Marine tried to do Steph's side without paying attention to his own.  The evaluators shook their heads. 

It was when Steph went in alone, though, that things got interesting.  I watched as she examined the outside of the "house" as she waited for the starting bell to ring.  When it did, she climbed up the side to a second floor window.  There was no point in airconditioning an unoccupied building, so all of the windows were open.  I searched the monitors to find the inside view of the room she'd chosen and found it was the room with most of the civilians and only one attacker acting as guard.  Steph managed to slip through the window silently enough that she wasn't heard, and snuck behind the attacker to 'slit' his throat with a chalk knife.  The attacker was obviously shocked when she 'killed' him, but fell to the floor without a word. 

Then she moved to the next room.  All of the attackers had their eyes trained on the door, and Steph took out all four of them before they realized what was going on.  She continued to move through the house backwards, taking them by surprise for the first few rooms until the sounds made the rest of the attackers suspicious enough to go looking.

All in all, Steph managed her solo round in more time than any of the others by at least twice as much, but was the only one able to make it through without a fatal wound.  I made a mental note for future attackers to be focused on more than just the front door.

I glanced at the evaluators out of the corner of my eye to see what they thought, only to catch one of them giving me an appraising look of his own.

"Interesting," he said, and the others nodded.  Of course, that could be a good thing or a bad thing.  "How do you know this lady again?"

"A friend of a colleague I owed a favor," I evaded with a semi-truth.  He nodded as if that told him something, and I worried we'd blown it, but he didn't say anything.

Next up was some sparring and take-down maneuvers.  Steph did very, very well in the sparring.  Of course, I'd expected no less since I'd spent the past half-year drilling her on all o fthe dirty tricks of the trade as I'd thrown her around the mat.  She'd had to pick something up, if only in self-defense, as I had not gone easy on her.

Tank—the only one who wasn't underestimating her—had been the only one to pin her.  He'd done this by flopping on her as soon as they'd started.  She'd retaliated by headbutting him, kneeing him in the groin, and jabbing his ribs with her elbow as he'd rolled off.  The evaluators had called the match off at this point.  In her other match-ups, she was vicious, and more than one of the guys had gotten a black eye or a split lip.  I was very pleased with her.  She didn't go for technical perfection or flashy showing off; she went for effective.  And she was very, very effective. 

Day 3 was reserved for the obstacle course.  I was never quite just how it had gotten this unofficial nick-name, since it was really more of a scavenger hunt than anything else, and the only obstacles invovled other RangeMan employees.  But maybe that was the point.

In this exercise, it was every man for themselves.  They were given a list of places they had to get a chit from without being caught.  They had one day, and had to make at least three of the five targets they'd been given, which included an office building, an apartment building, a restaurant, dry cleaners, and a house.  The chits were somewhere in each location inside of a metal cannister so they could recognize what they were searching for.  Stephanie wished everyone luck, shook hands with the evaluators and Tank and I, and then was gone as soon as she'd been given her list, and I watched and waited in the control room anxiously waiting to see what she would come up with.  I knew Tank would be the first done—he had the dual advantages of having lived in Miami and having been on the opposing side of this exercise before.  And one of the others was a Miami native before enlisting, so he would have a home field advantage.  But I didn't expect Steph to disappoint us. 

A few hours later, Tank had finished three, the others had attempted at least two, and Steph was nowhere to be seen.  The cameras monitoring the house suddenly went out.  I lifted an eyebrow in question to the evaluators, who frowned.  One of them radioed the guys stationed as the defenders at the house and had them check into it, only to find the power had gone out in the entire house. 

"None of the other houses on the block seem to be having power failure," one of the defenders radiod back after a few minutes.  If it was isolated, that probably meant it was part of the exercise.  I wondered which of the candidates had managed this.

I saw Tank slipping into the dry cleaners a few minutes later, so knew it hadn't been him.  Which left some promising new hires.

Tank was the first back, as I'd predicted.  He set his five chits on the table for the evaluators.  And, now finished with his eval, I had no excuse to keep him from the monitors with me and the three evaluators.  He raised an eyebrow, silently asknig how Steph was doing.  I shook my head.  She hadn't shown up yet.

Finally, finally, I saw Steph show up on the monitors.  The guys at the apartment building were all yelling out a window at a some kid who'd thrown a baseball into it, and she was inside.  I suddenly had doubts about the baseball being accidental.  She was quick.  Very quick.  She slipped in and relocked the door and was in the kitchen in seconds looking for the chits.  Luck was with her, since they were on the kitchen table.  She grabbed one, and I saw on the monitor one of the defenders heading her way.  Steph must have heard him, as she ducked into a closet and waited for him to pass.  Then she was out the door with noone the wiser that she'd ever been there.

"That girl had better get a move on," one of the evaluators said.  "She only has an hour left and this is the first time we've seen her."

"First time we've _seen _her," the second evaluator emphasized.

"You think she could have gotten past the defenders and the cameras?" the third asked, surprised.

"There was that blackout," the second said noncommitally.

"Oh?" Tank prompted.

"About an hour after you'd gone in, the house's power was cut," I said.  "Simple fix, but it took about twenty minutes."  I doubted that had been Steph, though.  I hadn't taught her anything about wiring. 

It was another twenty minutes before something caught my eyes.  People were running around the dry cleaners as the clothes line machine was running on what appeared to be high speed.  I watched the monitors carefully, keeping my eyes on the frame with the chits to see who it was.  Then she darted into the fray.  Stephanie.   One of the defenders hadn't gone to help, continuing his guard duty, and I wondered how she'd deal with that.  Then she was behind him with a stun gun to his neck and he was crumpled on the ground.  She grabbed her chit and fleeing in seconds.  I held back a sigh of relief.  She had two now, which was really quite good.  By the time they'd gotten the machine under control, Stephanie was long gone.

When she walked in not ten minutes later, we all looked at her in surprise.  She pulled out five chits and laid them in front of me.  Everybody stared at her in shock.

"How the hell'd you manage that?" one of the evaluators asked, summing up all of our thoughts.  She smiled slyly.

"Well, babe?" I asked her, looking from the chits to her. 

"I cut the power at the house; I knew you'd have cameras watching and they were most likely connected to the house's electric.  When you called them to check on it, they went out and I slipped in.  With the restaurant, I called them up, pretending to be a new restaurant supply company hoping to get their business, and got the schedule and companies that deliver to them.  Then it was an easy matter to bribe the linen delivery guys to loan me a uniform and let me go with them.  In the office building, I pretended to be a new hire with the cleaning service and got shown around to all of the offices they service.  You probably saw me at the dry cleaners, I slipped in from the roof and created a distraction by starting the machinery going in reverse.  And at the the apartment building I'm sure you saw me, too.  I paid a delivery service to deliver an empty box to the building, getting me in the back way with them.  Then I waited for a neighborhood kid to throw the baseball into the window and break it, and got in.  Once I was inside, it wasn't hard to get the chit and get out again."

"Where'd you get the cash for the bribes, babe?" I asked curiously.  As far as I knew, she didn't have much cash on her.  She smirked and patted my back pocket. 

"Hmm, well… You may have inadvertantly made a generous donation to my efforts," she said.  I raised an eyebrow.

"You picked my pocket?" I asked increduously; I certainly hadn't taught her that.

"Picked 'em clean," she admitted shamelessly.  I got out my wallet and, sure enough, all of the cash was gone.  The other guys quickly checked theirs and Tank and the evaluators found them in similar states. 

"I may owe some of you a drink," she shrugged.  "Well, except for you, Tank.  Who keeps only two dollars but three condoms in their wallet?  You didn't even have a twenty.  For that, I think you owe _me_ a drink for wasting my efforts."  She shook her head in disgust.  Tank looked at her in shock for a second before letting out a roaring laugh and slinging his arm around her shoulder. 

"You got balls, girl," he said still laughing. 

We only had to wait another few minutes before the others all reported back in.  Two of them had three chits, one had only two chits, and the fourth had four chits.

"Thank you all for coming in," I said.  "We're going to review all of your results and we'll get back with you tomorrow."  Steph cocked an eyebrow at me, but left with the others.

"So," I said when the candidates were all gone.  "What do you guys think?  Any potential hirees?"

"The girl," the second evaluator said immediately.  Which started off a very interesting discussion on the relative merits of each of the candidates.  In the end, the recommendation of the evaluators was to hire Stephanie and three of the guys. 

When I went to her that night, I refused to tell her anything, just smiling at her.  But I did want to know where she'd picked up some of the skills she'd shown today.

"Where'd you learn to pick pockets, babe?" I asked curiously. 

"In college.  I had a no good cousin who I black mailed into teaching me when I found out what he was up to," she answered with a laugh. 

"And how to blackout a house?"

"I have an uncle who's an electrician.  I worked for him one summer," she said, sliding her hands around to my back.  "I didn't learn everything I know from you, after all.  Just most of it."  And she pinched my ass and sprinted away.  Which, of course, meant I had to chase her and return the favor. 

The next morning we spoke with them all individually, Steph last.  When we offered her the job at RangeMan Trenton, she looked to me with confusion in her eyes.

"Are you serious?" she asked me.  I nodded, watching the evaluators' expressions out of the corner of my eye. 

"Now for the best part," Tank said grinning.  "What do you think her background is?"  Tank, Steph and I watched them debate it curiously.

One of them insisted she'd received Rangers training.  Another thought SWAT. 

 "Too many things don't add up," the second one said—the one who'd been the most curious about her the entire time.  I felt Steph tense ever so slightly beside me; I had to force myself to relax, too.

"Oh?" I prompted.

"She doesn't think Army," he explained.  "Too creative.  Too sly.  Too many tricks  and not nearly direct enough.  I've never seen any Army man start the kill house through the second story window.  No, she's definitely not Rangers.  I'd guess CIA or one of the other intelligence agencies."

The others, thinking over his words for a moment, agreed.

Tank groaned. 

"You did it," he said.  "You really fucking did it.  Son of a bitch."

There was much pounding of backs as Tank and I congratulated each other.  The evaluators were obviously confused, and Tank explained.

"She was a fucking lingerie buyer," Tank said laughing.  "This bastard here and I had a bet going that he could get her up to specs in six months, and he actually managed it.  Son of a bitch."

"My bank is already expecting your transfer," I told him with a broad smile. 

"She's a civvie?" one of the evaluators asked, unable to comprehend it.

"Until about six months ago," Tank said again.  I looked to Steph to have her tell the story, but she wasn't sitting on the couch any more.  I looked around for a few minutes before I realized it.  She was gone.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

I spent the next week searching all of Miami for her, but she was gone.  Disappeared.  Completely off the grid.  I had no idea how she'd managed to get out of Miami without some sort of record of it, but I was sure she was gone. 

_How could she do this?_ I wondered in confusion, completely taken aback by the fact that she'd left without a word.  _Why would she go without even a word?_  I refused to admit the hurt. 

After another few days in Miami—which were spent looking over the Miami office operations and were certainly not just putting off leaving in the hopes she would come back—I began the drive back up to Trenton.  I took a week at the South Carolina facility to make sure everything was closed up and ready for an extended vacancy.  There were no signs Steph had been back.  Not that I'd looked.

All in all, it was just over a month from the time Stephanie left me before I got back to Trenton.  I immediately hearad rumors that she'd been home and nobody had recognized her new look or her new attitude.  She'd taken in a few high bond skips, then cashed the checks and disappeared.  Nobody knew where she was.  Not that I'd asked.  If she was so ungrateful as to run off, I certainly didn't care where she was or what she was doing. 

Another week passed before I could admit that was a lie.  I made a surreptitious trip to the storage facility where we'd stashed her things, only to find everything emptied.  I wondered what she'd done with it, and where she was now.  Even if she was an unappreciative wretch.  That night I pulled up a few search programs and began to look for her in earnest, only to find out she really had fallen off the grid.  No electronic records of anything since she'd cashed her checks from the skips she'd brought in.  There were no records of her having flown back to Trenton or out of Trenton, no record of car rentals, train tickets, bus tickets, or ship fare.  There were no records of her purchasing anything at all.  Or working anywhere.  Or having existed at all in the past seven months, except for cashing the checks.  It made me want to pull my hair out.  I'd taught her all of these skills, and now it was coming back to bite me in the ass.

And I missed her.  I hadn't realized how ingrained she'd become to my life—how I'd grown so accustomed to her presence all the time.  Now without it, it felt odd, like there was something missing .  And when I realized there was nothing I could do to get it back, I'd spent quite a few hours in the gym with the bag.  Nobody had dared bother me.  When I finally threw in the towel, Tank told me that I'd managed to scare one of the new guys.  I made a note to have a spar with the pussy.

I went up to my apartment, deciding to shower and then get plastered to forget her for the night.  I was already stripping off my shirt on my way through the bedroom to my bathroom when I saw her.  Lounging on my bed, watching me with dark eyes as though she had every right to be there.  I froze, conflicted and unsure of what to do.

"Was the whole thing just some weird form of entertainment for you?" she asked.  "Was the whole time we spent together just because of the bet?  Were you just sleeping with me to, I don't know, pass the time and get me to do what you wanted?"

"No," I said, voice sharp and much gruffer than I'd expected. 

"Then why?" she demanded.

"Why what, babe," I asked tiredly.

"Why not tell me about the bet?  Why humiliate me with a pretend job offer and make me a joke?"

I blinked, taking in what she was saying and trying to figure out how it all could have gotten so fucked up.

"That's why you ran?" I asked.

"It _hurt_, Ranger.  I thought we… I thought you and I… and you turned me into a joke," she said.  "You hurt me.  I thought you really believed I could do it.  I thought we might have had a shot.  You hurt me, and I had to get out of there.  So yes, I ran."

"You were _not _a joke," I growled.

"Then why…"

"Tank and I bet on everything," I continued right over her.  "I'd agreed to train you before we made our bet.  As for not telling you, at first it didn't occur to me to tell you.  There was no reason for you to know.  Then when we were more, I decided not to tell you because I didn't want to put more pressure on you.  The job offer was real.  The evaluators put you at the top of the list for the potential hires.  Without my saying a word.  We were _not_ making a joke of you.  We were celebrating your success and settling our bet.  And I thought we might be something, too.  But then you _ran away._"

We both stayed silent for a while after that.  Then I sighed, sitting on the bed and running a hand through my hair.  I winced at the soreness in my hand—I'd seriously overdone it with the bag today.  Stephanie reached out and took the hand, gently running her fingers over mine.  She hummed disapprovingly and got up.  I heard her rooting around in the kitchen before she came back with some ice packs.  Then she led me into the bathroom and made me sit on the counter and hold onto the ice packs.  I watached in amusement as she rummaged through my drawers and cabinets, looking for my first aid kit.  When she found it, she stood between my legs and began carefully—almost tenderly—ministering to my hands, cleaning the scrapes and cuts and working out some of the soreness.

"I'm sorry I left without talking to you," Steph said softly as she finished with my hands, taping uup the bandages. 

"I'm sorry I hurt you, babe," I murmered equally quietly.  She looked up at me, face already close to mine.  She slowly leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against my lips.  Then her arms circled my waist and she lay her head on my chest.  I wrapped my bandaged hands around her and held her close. 

"Can everything go back to how things were before Miami?" she asked.  I pulled her up to my lap, and she didn't protest, just shifted her arms so that one hand slid up to my neck as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"No," I murmered.  "But we can make it even better."

And it was.

_The End_


End file.
